


Protocol

by Lolabobs



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Not Kingsman: The Golden Circle Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolabobs/pseuds/Lolabobs
Summary: In hindsight all that can be said is that Robson’s plot was more ambitious than his delivery. In the end nothing happened but a car bomb taking out a handful of victims with its brutal shrapnel and debris. The chemicals failed to react, due to the ineptitude of the build. So, the Borough of Greenwich is saved from the fall out of a dirty bomb, a handful of slaves are rescued from the warehouse where they were supposed to be building more of the devices and Robson gets to provide Percival with names and numbers and plenty of tears before…disappearing.Oh... and a respected agent is killed due to the ineptitude of his colleague.Eggsy sees this from his vantage point at the window. Sees and understands immediately. He knows what he’s done.He knows protocol and he speaks into the silence.“Merlin, I… I’ll go to the extraction point. I’ll wait. No fuss. You know that.” He hesitates. “Merlin…have Harry do it yeah?”Eggsy knows the protocol.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad & Merlin, Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a love story but it references canon level of physical child abuse and non canon child sexual abuse. It isn't at all graphic, more alluded to than anything else, but will touch on the emotional impact of the same, so please be aware and don't read if this will cause you distress. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment/ask/feedback anything you like.

“Eggsy we need you to take over from Lancelot – NOW. We need back up in place yesterday – the car is waiting.”

He should have known. Kingsman never skimps on prep. It’s one of the hard and fast rules, going in under prepared is worse than not going in at all. They all know that. So, who is to blame when Merlin barks the command, and Eggsy runs to obey? When Bors thrusts the sniper rifle into his hands, the coordinates on a scrap of paper and they all fall into position with only moments to spare as Percival rounds the corner, pistol pressed into his side, arm twisted behind his back and is scurried into the seemingly innocuous storage facility opposite Eggsy’s vantage point?

Merlin is still running down the outline of the mission, as Eggsy takes position, placing the rifle on its stand, steadying his breath and stilling his hands.

“You see the car ahead of ye, Lad? The detonator is in there. It’s primed to go if the trigger is touched. Bors is going to ‘rescue’ Percival and extract the intel we need from Robson.” He huffs “Well that was the plan when we had Lancelot on the inside. Eyes and ears but we’re flying a bit blind now. Ye’re just the back-up, if any of Robson’s team escape the warehouse and get near to the car ye’re to take them out. Kill shot. That detonator is connected to a potentially dirty bomb and we can’t take any chances.”

This isn’t Eggsy’s usual role, oh he has a splendid record of marksmanship, aced his trials and has a brilliant eye, but he is more suited to active roles, more used to bursting in and saving the day than waiting, poised with death in his hands.

He nods his understanding.

“Is Lancelot…? “

“Later, Lad.” Eggsy understands that Merlin isn’t going to gossip with him mid case, understands that no answer is going to help him right now. Whether Lancelot is compromised, injured, dead even, all he needs to know is that right now he is standing in her stead, watching a doorway, hoping he won’t have to act, won’t need to fire, but ready to do so, nonetheless.

He stills, focussed and settled. Listening to the interactions within the room across the way. Properly briefed, he would know if Bors was supposed to be shouting like that but instead knows only that there is some level of double bluff going on. Percival is undercover, has allowed himself to be caught before ’turning against’ his colleague Bors. Seeming to side with Robson, the bomber, whom he has been wooing for the last 3 months in a long running honey pot mission. This much Eggsy has been told, but the play by play has escaped him in the mad careening drive to the docks. While changing from trackies into more appropriate gear and checking his equipment he listened to a concise but limited rundown from a Merlin who was trying to co-ordinate Lancelot’s extraction from her location at the same time as engineering Eggsy’s slide into replacement sniper, and also trying to oversee Bors and Percival.

Eggsy’s calm enough though, his role is simple. Wait, point and if needed, shoot. If needed, it will be clear. If not, well, he’ll pack up his equipment, return it to the armoury and finish his run when he gets back to the estate. Happy to have been ready. Happy to attend for debrief and to see Merlin before he leaves. To check in, bring him a cuppa and catch a smile.

“Galahad!” Merlin barks his name at the same time as the yells from the building opposite grow louder, the sounds of a scuffle a little more desperate than before and he focusses his attention just in time to see the heavy door slam open and a body start to run across the forecourt. Sees the girl, skinny and slight but determined, heading for the car, sees Bors burst out from the door behind her. Hears the cries from both Merlin and Bors, telling him to take the shot, as she gets closer to the vehicle.

The girl moves swiftly and is headed purposefully for the car. A third figure, Robson, breaking from the door, yelling at her to hurry and enter the goddamn code makes that very clear. This is not an escapee; she is deeply involved in this mess.

But she is a child. 12, 13 at a push. She’s dressed to kill, like the kids at the school discos Eggsy is still young enough to remember. Lip gloss and eye make-up inexpertly applied, cropped top and fluffed out hair. She’s not bruised, not battered, no clear victim but she *is* a child.

And Eggsy knows the pressure to behave, to ‘act your fucking age’ when the required behaviour is a lifetime away from what you actually should be doing at 12. Knows the impossibility of ‘no’ and the utter desperation to ensure each move you make pretends a ‘yes’, when inside every ounce of you can’t bear it. Knows the lies that you tell yourself, so that you can believe you mean each of the yesses that follow. Knows how Pleasing Him becomes the only goal that counts, no matter what that costs.

In his dark moments, Eggsy knows how different things would have been had Dean shown an iota of kindness, had he called him Eggsy instead of Muggsy. Eggsy knows that he could so easily have become Dean’s greatest ally instead of a thorn in his side had the man just been kind. At that age, self-preservation would have mixed in with his desperate loneliness and self-loathing and a few kind words could have won him over far more powerfully than the beatings ever did.

It’s why he hesitates so. When he found himself swaying towards Merlin, when those first frissons and stomach flips from training days kicked in. When all it took was a “well done, Lad” in a quiet Scottish brogue to set his determination ever higher to ace the next task, to do bigger and better. When the words “whisper in my ear” were enough to get him burning with need, despite the adrenalin and anger racing through his veins. He urged caution upon himself, knowing how much he sought praise, sought approval that he never got.

Even now, when those first heady days have passed and he has more than earned his place by merit and achievement, he doubts. Even after he and Merlin saved the world together when they thought Harry was ... gone. Even now, when he is confident in his place and his right to be at table, whatever Chester King and the bloody dog task might have implied. When he proudly sits at Harry’s right-hand side – still he doubts the validity of his feelings.

Does he simply want Merlin because the man is beautiful? Is it merely a physical reaction to that strong profile, to the power contained within his frame? Muscles and abs that may be hidden beneath soft jumpers but have been seen enough in the gym to linger in Eggsy’s mind and make him want to touch and more besides? Is it just a clean want triggered by long legs that could power Merlin pushing into him for hours? The long arms that could hold him still, tight, close. The thought of inhaling the woodsy, fiery scent of him as they kiss, aquiline profile slotted into his own more stocky stature?

If it were that alone, he would be happy making a move. Sex is sex after all. Mundane enough that honeypots are a part of the training ritual, Kingsman issued condoms part of every mission kit and regular testing as part of the quarterly medicals. He could take the step if it were just that. He knows he’s fit, knows the appeal of his plush arse, the power of his thighs and what he can do with them. He’s seen Merlin looking.

It’s the other stuff that frightens Eggsy. It’s how often he finds himself slouched in a chair in the corner of Merlin’s office, just shooting the shit between missions. It’s the way he loves watching Merlin ‘argue’ with Harry because of the way the corners of Merlin’s eyes scrunch when he scores a point against their Arthur. It’s finding himself dropping off a cup of tea and a sandwich on his way out of the door because he’s sure Merlin will have lost track of the time and missed lunch again. It’s the way his stomach flips when Merlin thanks him with a smile. The way Eggsy lets himself act vague when debriefing Arthur on a mission, so that Merlin has to step in and give an account of the mission, because there’s nothing better than hearing a wry or impressed tone as Merlin relates Eggsy’s achievements.

It’s these things, the need for praise, the boost to his sense of self that scares him into thinking his love (God, is it love?) isn’t real. That he’s still just a puppy seeking approval from a different master.

And that’s before questioning what it matters anyway, because whilst Eggsy is very confident in his ability to shag someone into next week, when it’s not just sex they’re talking about, he sees very little to recommend himself, ace agent aside. And after all, Merlin has dozens of those at his fingertips. Not least of all Harry. He is never quite sure where Harry fits into everything, and funnily enough never really minds. Being jealous of Harry would be like being jealous of the sun. Harry is there, where he should be and he keeps the world doing every single thing it should. If Merlin were to love him a little – well, who doesn’t?

“Galahad!” 

Bors is screaming at him again. Only seconds have passed, but the girl, the target, the child ‘damnit has reached the car and is opening the door and Eggsy is supposed to take a shot that will kill a groomed teenager.

Bors has managed to take down Robson, the real culprit, and is now pursuing the girl across the courtyard and Percival is erupting from the doorway but is too far away to stop her, and although he is taking out his pistol, the shot isn’t guaranteed.

“Damnit Eggsy” Merlin barks, his voice cold and firm in his ears. “Lad take the bloody shot. Now.”

  
Eggsy raises his eyes and, responding to Merlin’s command alone, squeezes the trigger – watching stunned as the bullet bursts through the shoulder of Bors, who has just caught up with the girl. The child who slams her hand onto the detonator, moments before the bullet passes into her skull and drops her to the floor.

It’s slow motion and yet faster than he can comprehend. He watches the blood spraying from Bors’ shoulder as he grabs with his good arm to disarm the device, seeking to rip away the wires in a desperate attempt to undo the damage done. Eggsy hears the dull roar as the device detonates, feels the concussion as both his colleague and the child Eggsy was somehow trying to protect disappear in the shockwaves and blast of the explosion.

In hindsight all that can be said is that Robson’s plot was more ambitious than his delivery. In the end nothing happened but a car bomb taking out a handful of victims with its brutal shrapnel and debris. The chemicals failed to react, due to the ineptitude of the build. So, the Borough of Greenwich is saved from the fall out of a dirty bomb, a handful of slaves are rescued from the warehouse where they were supposed to be building more of the devices and Robson gets to provide Percival with names and numbers and plenty of tears before…disappearing.

Oh, and a respected agent is killed due to the ineptitude of his colleague.

Eggsy sees this from his vantage point at the window. Sees and understands immediately. He knows what he’s done. He knows protocol and he speaks into the silence.

“Merlin, I… I’ll go to the extraction point. I’ll wait. No fuss. You know that.” He hesitates. “Merlin…have Harry do it yeah?”

Eggsy knows the protocol.

It had taken him a while to understand. After all, when he swapped brandy glasses with Chester King, he hadn’t been acting according to any rule, hadn’t thought that he was imposing punishment. He’d just acted in self-preservation amid grief fuelled rage at the perceived loss of Harry. But afterwards no one had ever questioned his actions, no inquest had followed. Chester was wrong, Chester was dead, that Arthur was no more.

Eggsy had supposed at first that the death of King and the additional loss of two minor agents triggered when Valentine’s chips were activated had been lost in the thousands of other deaths across that day, that they had gotten buried in the restructuring of Kingsman, in the election of Harry to the role of Arthur after his miraculous resurrection. He hadn’t questioned what would have happened to them if he and Merlin hadn’t had to take the heads of heads of states and Kingsmen alike in an act of destruction so vast in order to save the lives of so many, many more. He was more absorbed with the realisation that Harry had somehow survived in Kentucky and hadn’t given the rest a thought.

He hadn’t fully grasped Kingsman protocol, what it really meant, until the day he had seen Percival walk into Merlin’s office and place a pistol on the desk between them. Uncharacteristically subdued, dull eyed, he had dropped heavily into the chair before Merlin and Merlin had risen and clasped a hand silently to Percival’s shoulder before moving to silently pour him a scotch.

The message that appeared in Eggsy’s glasses even before Percival had raised the glass to his lips, announcing a new recruitment drive commencing the following day at noon, as a result of the loss of Percival’s partner agent Tristan that morning, had shocked Eggsy but even then, he hadn’t made the connection until Merlin; with just a raised eyebrow and a shuttered look, had prevented Eggsy from reaching out and expressing his condolences to Percival.

Percival who had left for his mission with Tristan that morning talking about their plans for supper that night at the club. Who had walked through the estate joking about their plans to continue their everlasting poker game amid banter about who could bluff the best. Percival who had left with his hand on Tristan’s shoulder as they stepped into the train and who had returned alone, stone faced, dead eyed and colder than Eggsy had ever seen him.

Merlin had taken Eggsy to one side and quietly, plainly, explained that it was Percival who had killed Tristan with a single head shot, that no lad, it wasn’t an accident. No, *Percival* wasn’t a traitor. Merlin had watched silently as Eggsy had grasped, slowly, impossibly that Percival’s mission had been a success. That he had walked out that morning with one of his closest colleagues, someone Eggsy would have said was his friend, someone he had gambled, drank and laughed with, knowing that before the day was out, he would place a bullet in Tristan’s head and walk away, leaving the body for the clean-up crew and sending a clear message that treachery would not be condoned.

It made sense.

In a cold, spy, secret agent, save the world kind of way, it made sense. And it was that as much as the quietly quirked eyebrow on Merlin’s face that had stopped Eggsy’s spluttering indignation. That and the look on Percival’s face when he accepted successful mission accolades and expressions of sympathy alike with dead eyes and cold desperation.

You couldn’t have unreliable agents in Kingsman. Either through betrayal or ineptitude. Eggsy knew that and seeing the devastation in front of him, the blackened shell of the Ford Fiesta, the... pieces of Bors beside it, well, he couldn’t help but agree.

So, he packaged away the rifle and tripod, picked up the shell casing, wiped where he’d touched and took himself to the nearest rendezvous point. It would take only moments for the clean-up crews to start their work at the site. For the coverup to start and for the rest of the team to do their jobs.

At the same time Kingsman – Merlin - would despatch someone to take care of him.

He spoke into the silence again.

“Merlin – I’ll be there in 30. Location C.” He pauses before repeating his request. “Let it be Harry. Please.”

“Eggsy.” Merlin's voice is hesitant, out of character.

Eggsy interrupts.

“I know. Merlin. I… I won't fight. Y'know that.” He stops for a moment “Unless… I could do it myself…?”

“No! Eggsy...”

“It might be easier – fairer.”

Merlin sounds… the brogue is non-existent. He sounds flatter than Eggsy’s ever heard him when he murmurs “Harry’s on his way lad. Just, just wait for him. Okay?”

Eggsy starts to speak, wants to, but he can’t say anything. How can he? Instead, he grunts an assent, clicks off the glasses and clamps his mouth shut before making his way to the safe house.

He follows standard procedures. Circuitous route, dropping off the weapon at one of the secure locker drops, where it will be safe until recovered, so that he can stroll nonchalantly into the hotel and activate the standing Kingsman booking without drawing any attention.

It takes him 30 minutes. 30 minutes during which he doesn’t allow himself to think beyond the routine. Procedure. If not in a Kingsman cab after a mission ends, you take steps to evade any pursuit. You separate yourself cleanly from all evidence and you attend the nearest secure location and await extraction.

He waits until he is safely in the hotel room to click on the glasses again, the door locked behind him, Kingsman codes will override that. As the glasses power up, he ignores the messages and words he sees flash up before him, swiping them away with a flick of his eyes.

“Merlin, it’s alright Guv. I know it’s nothing personal. Just…”

“Eggsy…”

Eggsy cuts him off “Nah it’s okay, Merlin, honest. I mean, it could have been Dean – or some skank in a back alley with his dick down my throat. This is better. At least I did some good before this eh?”

He believes it too. Realises in the midst of his cock up that he truly is a good agent, a good man. Merlin could have loved him.

He clicks off the glasses again and places them on the side, so Merlin can see him and know he is waiting, not preparing to fight or flee. He cocks an eyebrow at the frames in a low-key salute and winks.

He sits. Stands and wipes his hands down his trousers, then straightens out the creases before sitting again.

“Fuck me.”

He stands again and walks to the desk, taking out his Kingsman pen and picking up a sheet of paper from the drawer before hesitating. What should he say? Words for Harry? A heartfelt thank you for the opportunity he gave Eggsy? A thank you for the trust he showed. For allowing Eggsy the chance to become Galahad. Hell, for allowing him to truly become Eggsy? Or should he thank Harry for taking that life as he is about to. For being the one to finish it? He can’t do that. Harry would never forgive him. Would never abide.

Could he leave words for Merlin? What the fuck could he say? He loses himself in thoughts of hazel eyes, the burr of his voice, the accent that becomes more pronounced the more tired he was, or the angrier – or strangely, the more he laughs. Eggsy allows himself a smile remembering their stupid shared jokes that would leave Harry bemused and shaking his head in pretended despair. What could he write of the comfort he found in the strength of Merlin’s command? In the voice that allowed for no disobedience – hell even today it was that firm, clear order to fire that had finally allowed him to pull the trigger. Too late. Too late but obedient in the end.

Could he write of the solace he took in knowing Merlin would always have his back, would always look out for him? Could he tell of the ironic sense of safety he felt knowing that Merlin has kickstarted this procedure. Has ensured that it is Harry driving across London, despite it not being an appropriate job for Arthur. Give thanks that Merlin will ensure his execution will be as clean as it is proper? He knows that if he hadn’t asked for Harry specifically, Merlin would have done it himself, and for a moment he yearns to see Merlin walk through the door. Wishes it could be Merlin who would place a large, gentle hand on his cheek, cupping his face just once. before pulling the trigger but he couldn’t do that to the man who he thinks might just love him a little. Couldn’t place that memory in his heart or the stain on his soul.

He knows Harry will grieve, but he has the distance to do it coolly, dispassionately and professionally. Harry will absorb the hit far better than Merlin, who doesn’t hide his soft heart nearly as well as he thinks, would.

He is tempted to don the glasses again just so he can have Merlin in his ear as things end but that would be selfish.

Perhaps Merlin does love him. Eggsy allows himself a moment, a second to think it. To dream that their last words could be a vow, a promise but now is not the time for wish fulfilment and besides, what if he did? What if Merlin does love him, it would be unkind to spend his words now, to leave Merlin with a what could have been, a what never will. So no, he won’t write words of farewell. No confessions of love, of trust, of farewell. No faith, no lust, no hope. He won’t do that.

Before, he never had the courage to speak, now he doesn’t have the cruelty.

Instead, he clearly writes Daisy’s full name, her date of birth and her National Insurance number. Details that Merlin could find in a heartbeat, but he writes them. nonetheless.

“For my Daisy.”

He speaks aloud then, knowing that Merlin is watching through the glasses. Still listening. Still with him.

“Everything’s for her Merlin. Tidy it up, make it tight. Keep her safe. Not…”, he smiles mirthlessly, “Not a fucking medal.” (He still wears his sometimes, ridiculously wishes he has it now). “Not a favour. Merlin, a promise. Keep her safe.”

His mother is doing her best. Is mostly sober, mostly sorted. Dean. Dean got quiet after Eggsy beat him at the Black Prince. Eggsy knows that the beat down he delivered, satisfying though it was, was not enough to cow the man. Arsehole bully that he was, Dean was not a coward and a straightforward arse kicking, even at the hands of Eggsy, even with the embarrassment afforded by his pathetic rent boy scrag end of a stepson beating his whole posse single-handedly, even that wouldn’t have squashed him for long. He would have come back bolder, bigger, angrier. Eggsy had learned that to his cost as a teen again and again. Dean never backed down. Eggsy had remembered this after the fight and had regretted his actions, knowing he’d been trying to channel Harry, trying to pretend he wasn’t gone. Afterward he’d expected retribution that never came and even now, although he doesn’t know exactly what Merlin did, he knows that he did something and that whatever happened, it was effective. He knows that Merlin continues to manage this. He knows he can trust Merlin to keep on keeping Daisy safe.

He caps the pen and places it precisely on the desk next to the note. Removes his ring from his finger, the lighter from his pocket, the wallet with the concealed blade and places them all carefully on the desk. Thinks about removing his shoes to fully disarm himself but needs to keep some dignity. Besides, it’s just for show, they know he won’t fight.

He returns to the bed, sits and waits. 

Harry arrives shortly after. Hair slightly out of place the slight curl belying the calm demeanour he is striving for.

Eggsy meets his eyes. Nods to the letter on the table. “It’s all for Daisy, yeah?” He tries to keep his voice steady. Calm. Almost succeeds.

Harry is speechless. A first perhaps. Eggsy wants to comment on this, to point out the oddity to Merlin but thinks it might not be gentlemanly. He starts the dance again. Stands, inhales sharply then sits again.

“Fuck me”. He chuckles. “How do you want to do it? Here? HQ? Shit, Harry.”

He laughs again. There is no humour in this.

Harry hasn't moved.

“Harry...”

Eggsy rises again and steps forward. Speaks to the silent watcher.

“It’s okay. Merlin, tell him it’s okay. I fucked up. It’s okay Harry...”

He shudders seeing the scene again, his hesitation and the consequences, the loss of Bors. The girl who froze him in the first place. Clenches his eyes closed as he sees the way Percival took over, ready to manage the cover up, the story, the press. None of which would have been necessary if Eggsy had done his fucking job. 

He takes another step forward. Then freezes. 

“Please Harry. It needs to be you. I trust you. I can’t do it to Merlin, I can't. I need it to be you. “

Harry's eyes flicker slightly, and Eggsy can tell that Merlin has commanded him into action. Harry swallows once, then raises his hands, wristwatch pointedly in front of him and twists the dial. A second’s pause in which he meets Eggsy’s eyes for the first time. A hollowed-out look of sorrow before he presses the watch frame. A second in which Eggsy takes one shuddering breath and gives a last, genuine, smile before crumpling to the floor into silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Eggsy falls boneless to the floor, no grace, no elegance just emptiness.

Harry follows him seconds later, falling to his knees, air gusting from his lungs as he collapses to the side and stares blindly ahead of him.

And Merlin, watching through Eggsy’s glasses, still placed carefully on the side, and through Harry’s own lens as he gazes at his protegee, is for once at a loss for words.

The whole day has been a fiasco. A complete clusterfuck. Lancelot breaking cover when she reacted to the wrong word and ending up fighting ferociously and desperately for her life. Escaping only after taking a knife to the stomach and breaking her wrist when her last punch struck bone at the wrong angle. She escaped and Merlin is proud of her, but her failure kickstarted the day of cock ups and reckless decisions that have brought them here. His oldest friend collapsed at the feet of… of the boy… of Eggsy. Harry’s shaking hand reaching out to touch Eggsy’s ankle as he sits next to the still body.

Eggsy shouldn’t have even been there. A first-class marksman, Eggsy nonetheless lacks the focus and, dare he say it, the patience of a true sniper. Not for him the hours of motionless waiting, so still as to be invisible. He doesn’t think the lad knows how to be still, thrumming with energy always. Even sleeping he twitches and fidgets.

And how does Merlin know that? Yes, he had to observe the candidates through their training. Has done it many times, seen countless beautiful bodies share the dormitory space, find their niche and fake a delusion of privacy. And whilst he had seen, he hadn’t looked. No voyeur he.

But Eggsy – Eggsy carried with him a grace that fought with such vibrancy that Merlin couldn’t help but be drawn to it. And whilst Eggsy wasn’t exactly an exhibitionist, as an ex-marine he had no false modesty. Stripping purposefully when it was needed, quick and functional. Ignoring the other candidates, even Roxy who had struggled more being the only female. And to be fair they’d introduced some semblance of improved privacy since Harry became Arthur and was obviously attempting to bring Kingsman into the 20th century at least.

After the parachute jump though, things changed. When Merlin had commanded Eggsy to ‘whisper in my ear’ whilst still struggling himself to absorb the adrenalin rush he’d experienced watching an exercise that normally saw nothing but a few hysterical outbursts before each would be agent pulled their cord in desperate panic. Merlin had never before watched a candidate come so close to death, whilst still looking out for a competitor. He’d never been so tempted to break role and tell the boy to pull his Goddamned cord, before falling silent, breathlessly watching the pair break all Kingsman records and see off three rivals at once.

He had wondered briefly if Eggsy was trying to impress Roxy, losing himself in chivalry at the cost of his own safety, had been prepared to be disappointed at the mundanity of it, something so basic from a boy who sparked with unconventionality. But Eggsy’s petulant challenge on the field had cheered him and Merlin had found himself pushing right into the lad’s personal space, commanding his closeness and enjoying the sharp intake of breath as he pressed close and reached for the cord, before Eggsy was pulled backwards and off his feet as the ‘chute released.

He’d felt the first move then from interest – this is an interesting candidate, he has potential, he’s smart, he’s capable… to *interest*. And he didn’t know that he liked it.

And Eggsy – well, the beaming grin on the lad’s face as he lay in the grass gave nothing away but there was an increased awareness to his movements in the dorm thereafter. Nothing so blatant as a show, but his showers were maybe a minute longer, his grooming more deliberate and after all, the lad was fully aware it was a two-way mirror. So, Merlin was... interested.

All of which passed when Harry, damn him, died in Kentucky. Didn’t die in Kentucky. Was fucking, typically, Harry fucking Hart in Kentucky, getting shot in the head, managing to break Merlin’s heart, break Eggsy’s, miss the fight of a lifetime and then effect a Lazarus style resurrection surfacing as a John Doe in hospital a few days later. 

Damn the man.

When – that - happened and Eggsy walked into a bathroom on a plane and Galahad #2 walked out, well, Merlin stopped being ‘interested’ and saw the true depth of the man. Watched him step into Harry’s shoes as solidly as… aye and there was the rub perhaps. Eggsy became Galahad but Galahad was Harry and Harry was, well Harry. And somehow, they all forget that Eggsy was just Eggsy.

Eggsy wore Galahad like a knight wore a Kingsman suit. It was his armour. And like a good well-made bespoke suit it fitted perfectly and was cut to hide any - Merlin wouldn’t say flaws, wouldn’t describe the heart of the boy as an imperfection, but the dog test was there for a reason.

And Eggsy… well, Galahad stepped right on up, styled his hair like Harry. Softened his accent, wore the persona like the costume it was and saved the fucking day.

It truly was fucking spectacular. It was destruction on a level Merlin had never seen before (well other than in a church in Kentucky mere hours before.) But it was condoned, well-done Agent, mass slaughter, whereas Harry’s was less clear cut. And certainly, Harry himself had taken a lot of convincing, hours of compulsory therapy and even more time getting absolutely hammered with his oldest friend to begin to accept that his actions on V Day were not his fault. To understand that his vulnerability, his questioning of his actions was what helped make Harry perfect for the role of Arthur rather than detracting from it.

It had been a strange day. Harry died. Didn’t. Yes, not going through that again. Merlin had flown a plane into an underground lair, Lancelot floated off into space and Eggsy saved the world. Then Galahad had bedded the princess and Merlin hadn’t watched because it wasn’t a honey pot, and it wasn’t Harry, and it wasn’t really Eggsy either. And one day he would unpick all that.

And Merlin now, in the 20/20 vision of hindsight that the last few hours had afforded him, could see that Eggsy and Galahad were two very separate people.

Hindsight that is shouting at him – are ye fucking blind man? – yes, it’s easy to see now.

The suave seduction (could it be called seduction when sex was effectively offered on a plate? The agent had picked up some champagne en route at least) of Tilde – Galahad.

The sheepish skulking back onto the plane and swift return into a tracksuit, blushing face and refusal to talk of any of it – Eggsy.

Taking out three thugs with one bullet and a well-placed champagne bucket on his latest mission – clearly Galahad.

Getting Harry to teach him how to actually wear the suits, but still turning up to table in winged trainers – Eggsy.

Spending hours in Merlin’s office cum workshop, taking the piss, whilst bringing him tea…

Easy to separate the two in hindsight perhaps, but Eggsy married the halves closely. He was able to summons Galahad at the drop of a hat. It wasn’t deception, not a con, no dishonesty. Eggsy wasn’t choosing to pretend, it was simple survival. A set of learned tricks to make his way through life. The same way he had learned to predict and manage the worst of Dean’s tirades, learnt to do just enough to protect his family without completely breaking himself on the way.

So yes, in hindsight, Merlin can see it’s clear. But at the time he was too busy falling to have time for introspection. Not falling in love, that would be ridiculous. Eggsy is young. A boy. Harry’s. Not interested in a dragon like Merlin. But… falling, nonetheless. Falling into, under, for.

The lad worshipped Harry that was plain even without the intense flash of insight blinding Merlin right now. Even without the “Let it be Harry” whisper he’d uttered into Merlin’s ear. And, back then, watching Harry preen as his mini me was granted the knighthood of Galahad was nauseating. Which Merlin had made clear when he had embraced his oldest friend, pressing a kiss to the still reddened scar in what had to be the thickest skull in the world.

But it was a healthy worship. Eggsy was able to give as good as he got, if not more. Plenty of piss-taking sarcastic comments and outright mockery even as he hung on Harry’s every word. Eggsy sidled easily into Harry and Merlin’s space, into their banter as if he’d always been a part of them.

And Merlin? Merlin saw an enticing mix of skills and wit and banter and fuck me, the most beautiful thighs he had ever seen. But he watched without expectation or hope, and it was okay for all that. Besides being friends with Harry for 30 plus years, well it was natural that he accepted a low thrum of underlying lust as a standard accompaniment to friendship – and he’d never fucked that irritating peacock despite loving him more than he could say. So why would he expect/think/hope any different about Eggsy?

Besides, they were Kingsman and Kingsman came first.

And Kingsman had rules and protocols and basic god-damn standards one of which was that no-one went in unprepared.

But Lancelot, bursting out of portacabin on a seemingly innocent industrial estate, bleeding copiously and swearing in Swedish (and he would wonder quite where she learnt those words and from whom, later) had somehow kickstarted the decision to go ahead with this part of this mission.

Protocol would have demanded immediate extraction of Percival (who, ironically was the perfect sniper and had only been put into his current role because his cold, angry civil servant looks had fit Robson’s type exactly). The mission should have ended there and then as a partial success, intel gathering exercise complete and a handover to MI6 to sweep in and clear the bomb factory.

However, Bors, and Arthur, and Lancelot herself through pained gasps as she waited for her own extraction in a hotel across town, had argued that as the plan had always been for the eventual outing of Percival as a mole, it should continue. Percival was to be revealed as a spy who would defect, surrendering all for love and would then be allowed into the inner sanctum as a reward when he ‘betrayed’ his fellow agent. Percival was to have ‘killed’ Lancelot, freeing her to go play sniper, whilst Bors carried on his silent watch, hidden, waiting to help Percival’s subsequent extraction. All Lancelot’s mistake/cock up/error had done, argued the trio, was to move things forward a bit – and her inconvenient bleeding knife wound, just meant someone else needed to step in as the not-even-really-needed-anyway back up.

And Merlin had listened. And Harry was Arthur after all, and carried the final say so, and not only that, he was also an Arthur with 35 years’ experience as an agent and a history of excellent mission success and swift decision making… and so Merlin had allowed himself to be persuaded. (Yes, Merlin knows he’s not actually in charge of Kingsman, but…)

So, Percival only needed to betray Bors instead of Lancelot. He was adaptable and quick – another excellent agent and they could call anyone in just to man the rifle, just in case. That was just belt and braces.

But it turns out Percival wasn’t quite as adorable as everyone had hoped and Robson (to be fair, a bit hacked off to have a broken nose courtesy of his fight with Lancelot earlier in the day, wasn’t quite in love enough to fall easily for the plan.

And critically, fatally, fucking uselessly, Merlin had looked at the roster and Galahad had been the free agent and Merlin had given him only the barest outline. A Car, Bomb, Bad, Fire – level of outline and had neglected to mention the one actual pivotally relevant detail, the ‘there’s a child in this Eggsy’ detail. The ‘ye might need to shoot your dog, only for real this time, Eggsy’ detail…

So, Merlin had watched as Percival failed to win the heart of his man, watched as Bors had attempted to extricate the both of them and effect an escape. Watched the relatively swift despatch of half a dozen henchmen and minions seemingly picked for their size rather than competence in battle. And he’d watched as a wiry, do anything for survival, do anything to please her groomer, child had wriggled her way out of Bors’ grasp, biting and kicking her way out. Watched as she fled towards the car, only one goal in mind.

He’d known Galahad could take the shot and he’d known Eggsy wouldn’t.

And amidst it all, Merlin had experienced a brief tingle of... something, when Eggsy had finally obeyed his barked, clear command.

A frisson of satisfaction that had lasted mere seconds as he saw the disaster unfold. Watched Bors – a man who ironically, was renowned for his love of explosives, take Eggsy’s bullet (not the boy’s fault that, Bors had moved at exactly the wrong second but Eggsy would be sure to blame himself…)

And then nothing. No Bors. No stupidly tenacious child just Arthur’s quiet ‘Oh’. Percival’s gasp and tightened jaw. Debris scattering to the floor, silence bouncing off of walls before sirens kick in and everything goes back to full speed and Merlin is activating backup, calling in clean-up crews, directing recovery, sending out medical (Percival is still battered, Lancelot is still bleeding in a hotel room awaiting extraction. There are a few survivors in the warehouse and, well, someone needs to retrieve Bors’ leg that Merlin can see just to the corner of his screen.)

And there’s Eggsy. The emptiness of his voice as he makes his quiet pronouncement and it takes a second for Merlin, who is arguing with Lancelot about who has priority for treatment, – i.e., the one who is still oozing blood through hotel sheets and needs to shut the fuck up and be ready to go) to realise fully what Eggsy is saying.

“Let it be Harry, Yeah?”

Harry himself is on the phone to MI6, his tense shoulders and clipped vowels giving away the ear bashing he is currently receiving, so much so that he doesn’t see Merlin calling for his attention and is therefore, very surprised when Merlin takes the phone from his hands and abruptly ends the call. Only paying attention when he hears Merlin’s desperate ““Harry’s on his way lad. Just, just wait for him. Okay?”

It takes too long for Merlin to get it through Harry’s thick skull, what exactly is going on. That Eggsy has triggered the Agravaine protocol. A lifetime of terror before Harry understands that Eggsy is offering to kill himself in order to save Kingsman the trouble and Harry needs to get there right now to deal with it.

A world of unforgiveable betrayal when Harry looks at Merlin and stammers “You want me to kill Eggsy?”

36 years of friendship possibly shattering at Harry’s look of loss and disbelief before Merlin can answer only.

“Ye want him to kill himself?” 

And Harry goes. Sweeps his hair from his face, grabs his rainmaker from the corner, because of course he does, and flies to Eggsy’s location.

And Merlin can breathe.

He disconnects everything. Kingsman be damned. He pushes control for everything to Morgana, his second in command. Barks ‘sort it’ at Percival; unforgivably perhaps, he and Bors were friends. And the Merlin never abandons his post.

But today he disconnects everything but Eggsy’s glasses on one screen and Harry’s on the other.

And he watches the bravest man he’s known walk into a hotel and prepare to die. Not in a Knight of the round table way, not in a ‘this mission might go tits up but I’ll go down fighting’ way but calmly and gently.

Merlin briefly startles when Eggsy speaks but is not surprised that even now his thoughts are for Daisy. For the little girl who he practically raised, the sister that Eggsy sold his body for and would sell his soul for if needed. The little girl who has broken all the rules about children on site at the estate, who charms agents, staff and Merlin alike. And if Merlin didn’t admit to loving the boy before, it is perhaps this that does it.

This or the near whispered words to Harry, “It needs to be you. I trust you. I can’t do it to Merlin, I can't.”

Merlin accepts that he loves the boy. Accepts it and feels his heart break when for the second time that day he issues the order to ‘fire’.


	3. Chapter 3

Eggsy hadn’t expected to wake up in Stanhope Mews. To be fair he hadn’t expected to wake up period. Kinda had the whole last words, final farewell thing going on, so hadn’t exactly been anticipating waking up anywhere. But if he had? Harry’s spare room, with, fuck me, Merlin at his bedside wasn’t it.

He contemplates closing his eyes again, wonders if Merlin will let him get away with faking dead for a while longer, another few years ought to do it. But he’s no coward, so he opens his eyes fully and speaks Merlin’s name before he moves and tentatively starts to sit up. Which is when he realises, he’s restrained.

“Oh, shit! you haven’t done it yet.”And even with the refreshed dread of impending doom upon him, he spares time to cringe at the idiocy of his statement. “It’s just, I thought you’d do it there, hadn’t thought you’d…” He tails off. “God I’m sorry Merlin.”

Merlin is already reaching for his restraints though and freeing his arms, which doesn’t quite make sense.

“We didn’t want ye to struggle Lad…”

“I tole ya I wouldn’t.” He feels aggrieved. “I said...”

“No, Lad” Merlin sighs and runs a hand over his face. He looks tired. He calls louder into the hallway “Harry!”

Harry hurries in, coming to a stop when he sees Eggsy is awake, rubbing his wrists.

“Have you…?” he asks Merlin.

“No, not yet.” He replies.

Eggsy sighs, impatient now “Well. Clearly not as I’m still here. Harry why am I in your bedroom. Why didn’t you…” his hand goes to his neck, the spot where the dart entered barely discernible as he rubs it.An idea occurs to him “Oh, does there have to be a trial?”

Eggsy – dear boy… it’s not. I mean. It’s just…Harry stammers, at a loss for words – which is unnerving, but has the effect of getting Merlin back online.

“Oh, for Goodness’ sake Harry. Lad, why did ye think we would kill ye for a mistake?”

Eggsy looks at him, bemused. “It’s protocol.I saw. I mean, after Tristan. I read about it in the archives. Kingsman activates the Agravaine Protocol when a Knight betrays the table.” 

“Aye, when a Knight *betrays* the table. Not for a mistake.” Merlin snorts “There’d be none of us left. Christ Harry would have died ten times over.”

“Excuse me!” Harry starts to interrupt, but clearly sees Eggsy’s expression. 

“Eggsy…”

“I killed Bors.”

“No…”

“His fuckin’ head blew off Harry. And not in a pretty, powder blue fireworks kind of way. Blood and guts and bits of brain everywhere.”

“Ye didn’t kill him lad.”

Eggsy glares at him “Merlin, shut the fuck up.”

Merlin carries on, disregarding the interruption. “Ye didn’t kill him. Ye hesitated and that resulted in his dying. If ye’d shot the girl, when I said, aye, he wouldn’t be dead, but ye didn’t kill him.”

Eggsy, set to argue his guilt for as long as it took is struck dumb by Merlin’s words. Stunned to hear his trainer, his handler, his Merlin say bluntly that he was responsible for Bors’ death. He knew it was true. Had been ready to die on that hill, literally, but hearing it said so flatly in Merlin’s burr hurt more than he would have anticipated. He sinks back against the pillows. Face white.

Even Harry looks shocked. Harry who in their very first meeting had refused to pussy foot around, calling him out on wasting his life, not allowing a hint of self-pity for his situation. Even he seems taken aback to hear Merlin’s blunt words.

“Merlin...”

Merlin ignores Harry too.

“And Kingsman doesn’t kill a man for making a mistake lad. We take a life to save a life. Agravaine is for betrayal. Tristan” He scowls “Tristan sold out the agency, the safety of the nation and almost the life of his closest friend for gain and for glory. For him, aye, Agravaine, and Percival offered the honour to enact it. But you? How could ye think ye deserved…?” He shakes his head before continuing.

“Ye didn’t listen to me Lad. Ye…” he stands as his voice wavers for the first time. “Ye didn’t trust me.” He stands over Eggsy for a few moments, then walks out of the room.

Eggsy is lost. He is lying in Harry’s spare bed, in, he realises what must be Harry’s tee and sleep pants, when he had expected to be... well.He looks up at Harry and tries to speak, his throat catching on the words and suddenly he is overtaken with tremors as his body finally lets go of the adrenalin. Finally realises that he isn’t going to die today and decides to have a break down to celebrate instead.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry is the one with the pretty words. Hundreds of the buggers. Available whenever and wherever, ready to share them at the drop of a hat. Whatever words are needed; gentlemanly, floral, flinty or factual. Harry has them at his disposal. He waffles his way through interagency meetings, walking away with 99% of his expectations met, whilst his counterparts barely realise that they’ve been bamboozled. He powers through Kingsman meetings pacifying the traditionalists whilst steamrollering his new racy ideas (such as equality, opportunity and respect) into place before the dinosaurs register the changes he is bringing in. Hard, precise and incisive words too, when needed, yes and cruel sometimes.

Merlin has none of this. He uses words as he would coding for his computer. Saying which of course, he is exceptionally good at coding, knows exactly what goes where to reach a certain goal. He couldn’t con his way through candidate trials so sleekly without a very thorough skill set, but he doesn’t dance his way around words as Harry does. So, he is somewhat pissed off when the man goes to pieces when faced with talking to Eggsy, leaving Merlin to take on the task.

He’s already lived through one of the worst days in his life. He’s had a few – his first sexual experience, coming out to his parents and being thrown out of his home (all one day) was up there, as was losing, or so he thought, Harry on V-Day. A loss that still sees him waking from shuddering nightmares even as he spends several hours a day with the irritating and thoroughly alive sod. 

But today, today he lost (truly lost) Bors, then realised that Eggsy was blaming himself and seeking to atone with the ultimate in self-sacrifice. Then he lived through Harry actually thinking, even for a second that Merlin would order Eggsy’s execution. Merlin has wanted to punch Harry many times before, but this was the first time he’d felt it so viscerally. The first time it was ever a real possibility. And his terror that Eggsy would ‘do the job’, and end his life, before Harry could get to him had eaten away at Merlin so that when Harry got there, Merlin could do nothing more than bark the command for Harry to dart Eggsy NOW, to get him unconscious and safe and to bring him home.

And that nightmare resolved, he had dived straight into a new one as he had simply walked away from Kingsman and taken himself off to wait in Harry’s home. And yes, he knows that Morgana is more than capable of holding the fort, that everything was under control. But he also knows that he would have gone even if that wasn’t the case.

Watching Arthur walk through the door with Eggsy in his arms, carrying him to the stairs, seeing the lad’s face, smooth and so, so young in his unconscious state. Helping Harry to change his clothes as together they removed the formality of the Kingsman suit, both knowing they had to speak to Eggsy when he woke, not Galahad.

All of this had just about killed Merlin.

At Harry’s insistence he’d agreed to restrain Eggsy until he was fully awake and debriefed, and placing bonds against Eggsy’s freckled wrists and fixing them to the bedframe had caused a rush of other thoughts that had no place in the here and now, but he’d pushed them down easily enough as he brushed the hair back from Eggsy’s face and settled at the bedside to wait for him to wake. Harry excusing himself to pick up some of the duties he had dropped at a moment’s notice for Eggsy, unable to bring himself to sit vigil.

Merlin had forced himself into calmness whilst waiting. It was easy enough to work out when Eggsy would wake, the dosage in the darts tried and tested, the calculation was a simple one, knowing Eggsy’s height and weight. So, he’d quietly sat, not allowing himself to reach out and take the boy’s hand, not letting himself do anything but think on the day and on the steps to come. Harry would talk to the lad, they would carry out a debrief and, shit, tomorrow, they’d recruit for Bors. Fuck. He offered a silent apology to the shorter than average Mancunian who had been a Knight for 15 years and with whom Merlin had shared a quiet pint on more than one occasion. Merlin hadn’t spared him a thought since Eggsy’s first whispered words and Bors was owed more than that.

Eggsy was not the only Kingsman who had some serious reflection ahead of them.

And Arthur would need to join that list it would seem, given the stuttering, stammering fool he became when faced with the wakened lad.

Merlin isn’t quite sure where his fury comes from. He’s untied Eggsy before he’d even fully opened his eyes. He doesn’t fear the lad, knows he could overpower him easily if it came to it. He knows every tell the agent has, knows his strengths and his points of weakness. Not least of which being the knowledge that Eggsy would never hurt him. It is an odd realisation, but he trusts this as much as he trusts his - well, not his own mother, may she rot in the care home she inhabits in Dundee, but as much as he trusts himself, as much as he trusts Harry. (And more, it would seem than Harry trusts him – yes, there is definitely some bitterness there to be worked out.)

So, Merlin frees Eggsy’s wrists and resists the urge to rub at the not even really there considering how loosely he’d tied them to start with, marks. And waits for Harry to put the world to rights. Seeing him dither. Listening to Eggsy get set to deep dive back into martyr mode, wanting to spare the lad, but furious at the same time. Bors *had* died because Eggsy hadn’t taken the shot when commanded. He tells Eggsy that and watches the colour drain from his face, hears Harry’s intake of breath at the bluntness of his response and he can go tae hell, he had his chance to do this nicely.

Eggsy had not listened to him. He had not obeyed Merlin’s command, not at first and Bors had died because of it.

Merlin knows that ultimately Bors had died because Merlin had sent in an unready agent, because Merlin hadn’t briefed that agent properly and had allowed Eggsy to go in unprepared. Because Merlin hadn’t warned Eggsy what he was facing. He knows all that. Understands it and accepts it. Instead, though, what he feels, what is tearing him up, the reason why he is so angry with both of them, the reason that comes out of his mouth and drives him from the room?

“Ye didn’t trust me.”

The role of Merlin is predicated on trust. He is in the ear of every agent, starts them as baby candidates and teaches them that he alone is to be obeyed, to be believed. Shows them he is the staunch figure amidst all the tricks and trials and the one who always has their backs. He sends failed candidates into the world with skill sets they never had before, places others into support roles and is the core of Kingsman. Arthur is the figurehead yes, and since Harry had taken the role, it is a figurehead that is respected and admired, but Merlin is its centre. The axis around which all else rotates. And he values and guards that role with his life. Does nothing to undermine it, The Merlin should be above reproach and he is a stickler for guidelines, protocols damnit and etiquette (not of gentlemanly behaviour – he could give a damn which fork a man twirls his spaghetti with, whether he wears the right clothing or wears his ridiculous hats indoors), but the etiquette of Kingsman, the rules of obedience and of command are a different matter.

And trust. He needs his agents to respond to his word without thinking, without question. There’s a place for the bloody dog test damn it, for all that he had failed it spectacularly himself, calling the parenthood of his trainer into question before shooting (attempting to, it was a blank after all) the Napoleonic Brandy carafe from the side. He was never suited to be an agent, blind obedience never within his capacity, not really.

More than that though. More than Merlin. More than the command implicit in handling an agent through life and death situations. More than that, he... Alexander – the man who existed before Merlin ever did, he needs to be trusted.

Yeah, that’s where the fury comes from. Anger buries hurt quite nicely thank ye very much. And he could try and tell himself that, as he watches Eggsy freeze for a moment before collapsing into gasping sobs and folding himself into Harry’s arms. It is the lie he tells himself as he watches the two of them shed tears together, taking comfort and release from the day and fights his own tears, furious as they rolled down his face. Furious and alone.

At least until Harry calls out to him. “Merlin, get your ridiculous arse back in here.” And Merlin edges back into the room to see Harry’s outstretched arm and Eggsy’s tear stained face and the fury just drops out of him. He joins their embrace, Eggsy burrowing into his chest with what could almost be a whimper.

It’s a puppy pile. They don’t do this. Harry and he have a strong relationship. Both utterly clear in their love for one another but it’s expressed in banter, constant insults, kindnesses and the occasional hand on a shoulder or pat on the back. They don’t avoid touch, do so freely in fact, but those are casual nothings, not hugs. And Merlin has never hugged Eggsy in his life. And even Eggsy, free with his winks and smiles and quick to offer support doesn’t touch much. Certainly not Merlin anyway.

But now he slides into Merlin’s arms as if this is something they do every day. Merlin breathes Eggsy in and can’t stop himself pressing a single kiss to the top of his head and he laughs as he feels Harry drop a kiss to his own bald pate.

It’s an easy hug, a brief interlude, and it frees them all. They pull away from each other, Harry straightening his clothes as he does so. Pressing creases back in the right place, his armour intact although the tracks of a few tears make an interesting juxtaposition to the cross-legged gentlemanly pose, as he seats himself in the chair beside the bed.

Eggsy pulls his legs up under him, he’s not sick after all, despite the pjs and bed location. He tucks himself against the headboard, scrubs his face clean and looks – not embarrassed, just young. There’s an uncertainty on his face but it seems linked now to a lack of information, not self-doubt.

And Merlin? Well, he’s not going to look at himself anytime soon, but he settles himself on the edge of Harry’s bed, one knee tucked under him and smooths his jumper. Squidging a little at the dampness as he does so and telling himself he is not touched by the, yes, the trust the lad has shown him.

“So, what now?” Eggsy looks sheepish. “I wasn’t expecting a now…”


	5. Chapter 5

“What now?”

Eggsy is not embarrassed as such, although he wonders if he should be. He doesn’t know what to think. It’s been… it’s been a day that’s for sure and he can’t let himself think about it too much.

Bors. Eggsy hadn’t particularly liked the man. True he was one of the few that didn’t look down on Eggsy for his… well, his Eggsyness. Bors’ strong Mancunian accent indicating that he hasn’t had the same strength of grooming from birth as the other knights. But even though he had never judged Eggsy, there’d been no connection either. Bors was… cold. He wouldn’t have hesitated to pull the trigger. But then none of the knights would have, would they? Only Eggsy. Only he would be stupid enough, coward enough to disobey a direct order.

He sees again the moment his bullet pierced Bors’ shoulder, when Eggsy had been naive enough to think that that was the worst thing that would happen that day. Stupid and gullible. Hears again the quiet grunt as Bors felt the bullet before... But Eggsy won’t allow himself to think about that. So instead, he raises his eyes from the bed – perfectly matched linens for Harry’s guest room of course - and looks instead to Merlin.

“What now?”

And he does mean with Kingsman. Of course, he does. Even if he won’t be executed, and yes, in hindsight perhaps that was a little Harry like in his melodrama of the moment, but whatever they say, Bors was dead because of him. There would be something. Would they dart him? Take Kingsman from him in that way? Return him to the estates with nothing but an altered accent and a strange skill set?

His heart stutters, He’d rather be dead than that.

Not to know the truth of what he could be, to be returned to his closed in life? To the hollow emptiness? Not to have Harry’s soft smile and warmly disapproving frown? To be without the tuts and pained scowls when Eggsy drops an aitch or allows the inner estate boy to shine through? Not to have the expectation that he can do better, be better, *is* better than the cowed hopeless chav he was when they first met?

Not to have Merlin’s soft, irascible, fierce growl in his ear whenever he needs it? Not the tech, he was handy enough with his fists even before Kingsman to get himself out of most trouble. It was only ever Dean’s hold over him, over his mother that stopped him standing up to his stepfather and his posse of dead end no hopers. Without his fears for Michelle and Daisy he’d have brawled his way out long since. No, he didn’t need Merlin for self-defence, not that way. But to be without him beyond that? Without the quiet sense of humour, the droll quips that cut through the sarcasm. Without the pride in Eggsy that he heard every time he completed a mission, the hidden encouragements? To be without the rambunctious Scot watching football and cursing the referee with ever more inventive terms. The quiet appreciation as Eggsy brought him a drink. The stupid, trivial conversations?

If they took that away from him what would be left?

“There’ll be an enquiry, an investigation.” It is very clearly Arthur speaking to him, interrupting his thoughts, from the boudoir chair in the corner.

“A routine debrief and subsequent rest period, but you hesitated and disobeyed a direct order, which will trigger an investigation and disciplinary. Standard procedure Galahad.”

Harry hesitates.

“And as an agent, um, involved in the death of Bors, you will not be permitted to nominate a candidate.”

Eggsy swallows. He hadn’t even thought that far. How could he? He pushed the image of Bors’ death away and down once more.

“Whilst under investigation you will be suspended from active duty and…”

“Ye’ll be required to remain on Kingsman property, Lad.”

“House arrest.” Eggsy mutters.

“Of a sorts, yes. It is standard, Lad. It’s why there are suites made up. Ye are not the first and won’t be the last.”

“It wasn’t with Tristan.” Eggsy can’t let it go. Plus, he wants to gain back a little credibility by showing he’s thinking, not that he thinks they’re judging him really, but…

“Tristan wasn’t on house arrest. He went out on a mission with Percival.”  
  
Merlin tsks his frustration. “Tristan was different, there was clear, irrefutable evidence of his betrayal and to have done anything to tip him off would have resulted in the exposure, and possible death of many agents.”

“So, you sent him to his death with the person he trusted most!” Oh, this is still bothering Eggsy more than he’d realised.

“Aye, well as long as we don’t send you on a sudden mission with Harry, Ye’ve nothing to worry about have ye Lad?” Merlin snaps.

Harry gasps and Merlin looks a little sheepish, but carries on, nonetheless.

“Eggsy – I know ye don’t trust me, but Harry is your best friend. He is telling you this and if you can’t trust him, I don’t know where we go from here.”

Eggsy is aghast. Of course, he trusts Merlin. More than anyone, more than anyone in his whole life ever. It wasn’t distrust that held his hand today. He didn’t fully know what it was, other than being thrown back into his own helplessness, his own shameful youth and wanting to escape it somehow. Some mixed up idea that he could help that girl escape when he hadn’t been able to himself – not then at least. But it was Merlin’s voice that had brought him back and let him shoot, too late of course, too fucking late for the girl and Bors, but it was there. How could Merlin think that…

“He’s not my best friend.” Somehow that is what he says. What the hell? He doesn’t know where to look. “I mean… I don’t. I do…” he peters out and hears Harry’s ungentlemanly snigger as he does so.

Well, it’s true. Harry is... Eggsy’s not quite sure what exactly. Eggsy enjoys spending time with him and he’s bloody fit and has endless buckets of bravery and strength. His survival from a bullet to the head, miraculous recovery and subsequent return to head up Kingsman is testimony to that. He knows everything – of a certain type - all that gentlemanly shit, he’s got that covered and he’s taught Eggsy more than anyone. And there is some fatherliness in there somewhere, not least in the fond, testy way he scolds Eggsy for his mishaps and faux pas. There’s a big brother in there somewhere too, in the way he offers pep talks and encouragement.

So, yeah. Harry is a kind of hot, teachery, fatherly, big brotherly, mentor sort of thing and Eggsy loves him in all those sorts of ways He’s…Harry is all.

But he’s not a friend as such. Eggsy’s been mates with Jamal and Ryan since he was a child, knocking around together on the estate because none of them had anything better to do. Kicking a ball around, messing around on a skateboard, watching each other flame out as they tried Parkour for the first time, watching each other flame out as they tried to pick up dates for the first time in the same amused way. And they’d become mates, good mates. Jamal was the only one Eggsy had told when Dean hit him the first time, Ryan was the one he’d spoken to when Dean had made… softer approaches. And they’d both stood by him, making feeble and futile plans to try and save him in both instances. Plans that obviously didn’t involve telling anyone else; cos you didn’t grass, not for anything (and Eggsy had realised this and maybe stopped telling them some things as time went on, not wanting to see the distress in their faces, but still, they’d have listened if he did.)

He had Rox as a friend too now – in this new life. They had bonded from the very first night, whispering in shock to each other after the ‘death’ of Amelia. Sharing their feelings of guilt even as the likes of Charlie and Digby proclaimed their displeasure at the danger Kingsman were placing them in and declaring that the agency needed to take better care of them.

Just like with Ryan and Jamal, his and Roxy’s shared experiences had brought them close, shared adversity to some extent, as, for all she was clearly from a privileged family, silver spoon territory in fact, Rox lost these advantages at Kingsman simply by being a girl. Not with all of Kingsman of course, Merlin certainly made no allowances nor lowered any expectations, but for their fellow candidates, Eggsy and Roxy were equally unsuitable and undesirable. (Although he thinks Digby may have had a soft spot for “the “weaker sex”, at least until Roxy knocked him out in a sparring session that is, a memory that they both revisit when they need a laugh.)

But his best mate – if you defined that as the person you most wanted to spend time with, as the person who made you laugh most, who made you feel good about yourself, whilst not allowing you to get away with bullshit. Well, that was Merlin for Eggsy, and had been for some while now. That Merlin didn’t know this kind of threw a spanner in the works. But their friendship wasn’t all one sided, Eggsy wouldn’t believe that. Merlin sought his company too, arranged meet ups and slouched in Eggsy’s flat doing nothing just as frequently as it happened the other way around.

They didn’t really do heart to hearts. Eggsy because he’d long since accepted that telling a ‘mate’ that you couldn’t stop thinking about them and would like to do, well anything and everything really, with them, telling a mate that wasn’t the wisest of things to do.

And Merlin? Well sometimes Eggsy hoped he had the same reasons for his reticence and other times he reminded himself that Merlin was the fittest, cleverest grown ass man he knew and had a hundred people he could do better with.

Yeah, right. Um. Best mate – sort of.

Harry chortled again, bringing Eggsy’s attention back to the room.

“Eggsy, I’m mortally wounded and shall perhaps never forgive you.”

Eggsy starts to stammer some sort of apology, but thank fuck, Merlin interrupts, as he has no idea what he’d actually say.

“Be that as it may Lad.” Merlin takes them back to business. “We know ye did nothing on purpose, there’s no question of betrayal, but we’ll need to get it formally recorded and ye’ll need…”

Arthur steps in, all traces of humour washed from his face, although Eggsy knows it is his training and his role rather than personal disconnection.

“We need to know you’re fit for action Galahad, that you can reliably go back into the field. There will be training.”

“And therapy” Merlin adds.

Eggsy almost protests, but his heart isn’t in it. Bors died today and whatever Merlin and Harry say, Eggsy played a part in that. And while he never enjoys the visits to the therapy department; Dr Fielding’s unflinching rip the plaster off approach, or Dr Madden’s gentler person-centred methods, do always leave him feeling calmer, give him space back in his brain.

Something in him relaxes. There’s a path ahead of him, and although judging from the looks on both Harry and Merlin’s faces, it’s not one he’ll particularly enjoy (and why should he?) at least he knows what’s what and he knows he’ll get through it with their support.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorting training for Kingsman agents is a lot harder once they’ve been knighted.

Baby candidates are all shiny and new and are disoriented within the first few hours when they see Amelia (lately from the Berlin office but before that from Australia where she competed in free driving championships and could hold her breath for eight and a half minutes until she gave up competition to work for Kingsman worldwide – keeping up her training enough to allow her a comfortable death each time there was a recruitment drive.)

When candidates see Amelia drowned, all their doubt and cynicism is lost. The mood that hangs over them as Amelia’s ‘corpse’ is recovered and placed in the body bag she’d jauntily written her details on hours earlier; that shock to the system impacts deep and hard and for the rest of the training, candidates know that they are disposable and to be just kicked off of the training would be a merciful option for them if they fail.

Once the successful trainee is through however, after the double whammy of the train fake out and the dead dog skit – well, it is extremely hard to fool an agent after that. Indeed, there is a school of thought that any agent who still retains any gullibility at that stage probably shouldn’t have gotten through at all.

Agents who need extra training after that, endure more obvious methods.

So now, Merlin finds himself grateful (no disrespect to Bors) to find himself busy with a set of new recruits; one or two of whom show promise. What with the aftermath of V-Day and then Tristan’s betrayal, they have had to run recruitment more frequently in recent years than normal, so a lot of the preparation is still in place and ready for the new Bors cohort, which should mean that Merlin has slightly more free time than usual. But not enough, he’d argued vehemently when it was suggested, to run Eggsy’s retraining at the same time. And he knows that if Arthur had been anyone other than Harry, that his argument would have been unconvincing, and he’d have been overruled.

Harry had instead asked him quietly “Are you sure, Merlin? It might help him to have you involved?”

But Merlin had known he couldn’t be party to it. Kingsman is a spy agency, he knows that. They are tasked with the unspeakable and he knows that too and believes in it, truly sees why they do what they do. Merlin goes in every day, via glasses, intel and surveillance; goes along with each of his agents and sees the things they do. It’s worse for him in some ways, as it is his voice that commands. His decisions, his orders and he knows that some agents carry their comfort in this, in feeling able to say “I was just obeying orders.” 

Merlin shudders every time he hears this justification and reviews footage anew to reassure himself he is making good, warranted, decisions. He knows what this footage does to him. Knows the nightmares he has and the PTSD that would overwhelm him if he didn’t have weekly therapy sessions. Dr Field’s exposure therapy more in line with Merlin’s limited patience than Dr Madden’s ‘tell me about your childhood’ approach. Although Merlin admits that he and Dr Madden had hit it off on the wrong foot when their first attempted therapy session had come moments after Merlin had learned that his mother had concealed the news of his father’s death from him for the previous 5 months because “You stopped having a father when you chose sin.” Madden’s gentle introductory chat about family had not been the way to go. Madden was working wonders with Eggsy though, so he had Merlin’s respect if not his custom.

Merlin knows how the things they work against can hurt and will not be party to bringing them into Eggsy’s life, least of all for training purposes. He is not going to pin Eggsy to a chair to watch footage of torture and cruelty. Will have nothing to do with the brainwashing approach of the physical training events at the range where Eggsy is commanded to make the kill shot on the holographic targets that pop up be they male, female, women or child. To act not in response to his own instinct or judgement, as all previous such training had been, but in answer to a seemingly, randomly barked commend.

Merlin will not be the voice in his ear for that and nor will he administer the (granted very mild) electric shock, each time Eggsy is perceived to have hesitated.

It is training Merlin does not approve of and he will not be there, even to ease Eggsy through it. It isn’t torture. It isn’t prolonged, it’s just two aspects of a well-balanced training approach but he’ll have no part of it, nonetheless. And Harry understands this, even as Arthur signs off on the programme.

Because Galahad’s place is not guaranteed. There remain enough old school agents still at table that have doubts about the new wind blowing through Kingsman, those that muttered when Eggsy was first accepted to the knighthood even after failing the dog test and putting down the previous Arthur. They murmured about his upbringing too, his past, his suitability. Although they did so much more quietly after Merlin reminded them of his own less than stellar birth right and non-compliance with the final task. Reminded them that he had kept every single one of them alive at some point in the past and was still tasked with doing so in the future…

And even without the few dinosaurs on board, Merlin understands that Galahad needs to prove himself. And he knows that neither he nor Harry have hidden their fondness for the boy, so to keep Eggsy there, for his place to be above all doubt they need to go through all the motions, all the hurdles.

So Eggsy watches videos of outrage and carnage and Merlin knows they’ve made him watch Bors’ death at least twice. And Merlin *is* involved, only not as Arthur suggested. Instead, he leaps into role reversal, making sure there is food and drink ready for Eggsy at the end of the day (yes, he sets an alarm because he still has no sense of the passing of time himself when he is working. He’s concerned for the boy; he hasn’t undergone a personality transplant.)

But he makes sure that he’s there to share the meal whenever possible, taking tales of the candidates’ progresses and mishaps alike. As Eggsy has no horse in this race, Merlin can talk of them freely and delights in doing so. Particularly when Harry’s candidate fails one of the etiquette tests, leaving Harry purple faced with indignation.

He can tell the days Eggsy has been in VITT - Video Immersive Therapy Training. Brainwashing Merlin thinks but Kingsman will always have a socially acceptable spin for such things. On those days, there is a strain around Eggsy’s eyes and a tenseness to his body and it takes all that Merlin possesses not to reach out to him. The memory of their one hug always close to the surface, he yearns to hold Eggsy close and feel the moment the tension drops from his body.

He surprised himself with this, the first time. He’s spent far too long remembering the feel of Eggsy in his arms, the strength of his muscles, his warmth, the breadth of his shoulders and the way the pair of them fit together perfectly. But when the urge to actually repeat it (as opposed to his many daydreams and fantasies), all Merlin had wanted was to provide comfort, wanted only to give support.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t still spend more hours than is healthy wanting more, wanting to hold, to reach out. Imagining Eggsy embracing him too, of pressing close, sharing air, sharing more, but that is an undercurrent to his life now. Always there because the lad is gorgeous, how could Merlin not want? But it is a want that underscores a more pressing need to protect. So, Merlin keeps himself frightfully busy with the candidates during the days, glowers at his subordinates who were actually delivering Eggsy’s training, passes all requests for authorisations to Arthur and just happens to be passing, to be free, to be available whenever the lad treads wearily to his suite, or to the gym or…

Whatever Eggsy needs. 


	7. Chapter 7

As a kid, Eggsy wanted to be a soldier like his Da, the pair of them had marched around the house together playing at protecting Queen and country. Eggsy had learnt to salute and would do so before he went to bed every night, making his parents squeak in delight at his pudgy face and wobbly arms. He’d stand there, proud as punch and grinning like a loon.

  
Then, when his Da went to work one day and never came back, his mum stopped the game. Stopped the saluting. Sometimes by just ignoring him or sending him to bed with a “Not now, Eggsy.” Once by shouting at him to stop it! That he would never be a soldier so just stop it, yanking his hand from his head and shaking him until they were both shocked and crying. After that, Eggsy learnt to read his Mum’s moods a little better, became a little quieter, a little more careful.

But as is the way of life, things had perked up after a while. Mum stopped being sad all the time and played with him a bit more and they’d had adventures again. Eggsy The Dragon Slayer saving Princess Mum! Eggsy The Astronaut flying to the moon. Eggsy The Postman delivering the same three battered envelopes to his mum (yeah well, the postman had a wicked pair of trainers and spoke to Eggsy every time he delivered the mail, telling stories about the dogs he saw every day – young Eggsy had thought it must be the best job ever.)

And it had taken Eggsy a while to realise that even postman was a job out of his reach. No one on the estates seemed to be working. Not proper jobs. Grafting, yes. Eggsy saw enough of that, especially once Dean came along and made sure of it, but a proper, honest to goodness, regular wage slip type of job? That wasn’t for boys from his estate.

Dean had been particularly good at reaching Eggsy. Oh, not just the new toys and treats and family days out he’d brought to their flat when he was first wooing Michelle. He was a welcome addition to their home to start with. His mum was bubbly and excited and Eggsy loved that. And Dean, well he was exciting in himself. He wasn’t an ugly man, especially in the beginning before the drinking and drug taking got out of hand and though Eggsy never fancied him as such, he came into their lives at a time when Eggsy was beginning to notice people and Dean was a big, powerful force of change, coming into the home previously run by a slightly chaotic Michelle and bringing order and plenty.

Dean had encouraged Eggsy, told him stories, listened to Eggsy talk about his day, set him little tasks to do. Run to the shop Eggsy and buy some ciggies, clean my shoes. Silly little tasks that Eggsy could achieve and he gave praise and a few quid when they were done. And Eggsy lapped it up. Felt grown up and clever. And things moved on a bit, Dean would set him to “Pick up a parcel from no 20 Eggsy, keep it Schtum yeah?” or “Run this along to AJ at the market, boy, and don’t tell yer Mum.” And that was fine too.

But then the task… changed again and “Don’t tell yer mum.” became the main thing and soon after, the kindness pretty much all but stopped. There was no more praise and a lot more anger and every time Eggsy thought of saying no, well, Michelle would get a new black eye. Eggsy became Muggsy, and life turned to shit.

And Eggsy had asked Dr Madden “Why didn’t I think that the time before that was terrible?” When Dean was abusing him, before Eggsy dared to try ‘No’. What sort of person was Eggsy that he hadn’t called life his shit then? But Dr Madden had pointed out that that was when Eggsy felt that he was ‘managing things.’ Things were calm in the house before Eggsy started to say no. Michelle didn’t have bruises, Eggsy didn’t have burns, none of them went hungry. Michelle didn’t drink.

And adult Eggsy knows that this thinking is flawed, knows that none of it, NONE of it was his fault. Knows that this distorted thinking is reason enough for the fact Kingsman sometimes kill child abusers without benefit of a trial. Knows why Faye Brigham, the 14-year-old eldest of three ran away from home with her stepfather and went on to detonate a car bomb. She thought she needed to keep him happy. Didn’t know she could say no. Hell, at that point, she couldn’t say no.

Fuck.

Eggsy knows why he didn’t shoot her; knows why he should have done and knows why he is being ‘reprogrammed.’

He hasn’t always wanted to be a Kingsman, Hell, since his Royal Mail fantasies he’d had no real ambition beyond a series of pacifications for others; Keep Dean happy, keep Dean liking him, keep Dean calm, keep his Mum safe, protect his Mum, protect Daisy. His one flirtation with a career before now, the Marines, had been about keeping his Dad happy in some weird, ghostly kind of way, and although he had enjoyed it, it had only lasted just long enough for his Mum’s pregnancy to be at risk.

There had been no ambition there for himself, not until he met Harry Hart and since, well, since the drowning on night one Eggsy had wanted nothing so fiercely as he wanted to succeed as a knight. And Dr Madden had helped him to see that it was okay to have a mix of motivations. That he could want this for himself and also want to please others. That it is okay to enjoy impressing Harry, that getting a buzz when Merlin tells him ‘well done’ or seeks out his company is fine. That this was nothing like what he’d felt around Dean and that this is okay. That it was ok to like Merlin and okay to *like* Merlin too.

So, Eggsy has reached a level of peace with his past and his present and he desperately wants to be a Kingsman and if that means sitting through video nasties that bring back difficult memories then he can do that.

But thank fuck for Merlin, for his brusque offerings of food. For the seemingly diffident invitations to watch a match together, for his blatantly obvious refusal to ever ask Eggsy about the training, but to read his mood, nonetheless. He makes sure Eggsy sees his family too. Suggesting they go for a walk together on that first weekend. A walk that just happened to take them to Hyde Park when his mum and Daisy just happened to be there. Sitting to the side when he could get away with it and letting Daisy clamber all over him when he couldn’t. Strolling with Eggsy back to Kingsman afterwards, take away coffee in hand and easy chat and no sense at all that he’s Eggsy’s guard or security or anything else but a friend. And then repeating this every other weekend since. So yeah, thank fuck for Merlin.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur is seated with an array of reports before him, paper files, electronic reports, testimonies and assessments. Agent Galahad has passed every assessment, has “engaged fully and openly” in therapy and has granted permission for his sessions to be viewed by Arthur/Merlin if required. Every report says the same thing, Galahad is fit and ready for duty.

Despite this the meeting is a lively one and Merlin is reaching the end of his tolerance. He doesn’t have a vote, and is not normally even present at table meetings, but he is in charge of training, oversees R&D, is the quartermaster and has had the ear and therefore, control of, every single agent in the room and any attempt to prevent his attendance would have been... interesting.

He coughs meaningfully and quirks his eyebrow at Arthur, his meaning plain and Harry, with a skill born of 30+ years friendship reads his meaning and brings order to the room.

“Gentlemen… er Knights.” Arthur corrects himself with an apologetic look to Lancelot. The table needs more women and with two of the final four remaining candidates on the current cohort being female there is a reasonable chance. “You have heard the evidence. Agent Galahad hesitated in the field and disobeyed a direct order. You’ve heard his testimony and his explanations as well as his genuine remorse.”

Merlin closes his eyes at this, even after five months Eggsy’s regret at the loss of Bors was palpable. He thinks the boy has accepted that he wasn’t entirely responsible for the agent’s death, but he will always feel that he failed to prevent it. A small difference to be sure, but hopefully one that will grant him some solace.

Arthur is continuing. “You’ve seen the results of Galahad’s field tests; you’ve seen the reports from Psychology, and you have heard the testimony of your Quartermaster.”

Merlin grimaces internally. He isn’t good at public speaking, even in this setting and is thankful that every agent at table is used to his tendency to impatience when asked what he feels to be unnecessary or inane questions.

“It is time to vote. Galahad has been suspended from active duty whilst this matter has proceeded, to allow him to undergo remedial and refresher training. He has been suspended for five months – a period he has never questioned or challenged. He has completed intense training and therapy and his results are seen. The table votes on two points.

One: Is Agent Galahad to return to Active Duty?

Two: Is Agent Galahad to face further disciplinary action for his delay in following a direct order?

Point one – How say you?”

If asked to predict on a purely analytical manner how the vote would go, Merlin could have provided a full breakdown, based on many factors, a likelihood for each knight’s vote. He has an algorithm ready built that they use when predicting the outcome of political coups, or power struggles within organisations.

Merlin could have plugged all available data and set it running to predict this meeting and perhaps he should have, but ultimately it all comes down to trust.

Do these men (and woman) trust in the agency they’ve vowed to serve? Do they trust their Arthur and his judgement? Do they trust Merlin, the man they rely on, literally, to keep them alive on a day-to-day basis? And can they trust Galahad?

Can Merlin trust them to do the right thing?

He has his eyes closed still and doesn’t see the outcome of the vote, hears only Arthur’s quiet “I see. Thank you. And the second point? What say you?”

He snaps his eyes open. Damn Kingsman etiquette and the refusal to express any damned emotion. What was the vote? He looks to Lancelot, but she is looking down at the table, hands pressed firmly flat – she is voting no to disciplinary action. He skims past the other agents, not caring about punishment at this point. He needs to know; is Galahad, is Eggsy saved?

Harry’s face is the reassurance he needs. His calm, stoic face is giveaway enough to Merlin’s knowing eyes. He may show no pleasure, but nor is there any hidden fury. His quietly quirked eyebrow as he sees Merlin looking at him is further confirmation. He can almost hear Harry calling him a coward (and rightly so) for not watching the vote.

Merlin looks again at table. Bedivere and Gawain are the only two with hands raised, the only ones seeking additional punishment. Both stick in the muds who should retire as far as Merlin is concerned.

Arthur closes the files in front of him. “Thank you all. The vote is taken. The decision stands. Galahad shall return to active duty forthwith. He shall return to table and be afforded the full freedoms and respect of Knighthood. He has discharged his duty and shall face no further punishment. Thereby ends this exceptional meeting. I thank you all.”

The dismissal is clear, Arthur rises from the table and those knights in remote attendance flicker out of vision and the others make their exit from the room, leaving Merlin and Harry facing one another. Harry closes his eyes in relief then opens them to glare at Merlin.

“Coward.” Yes, 36 years of friendship make a man predictable.

“Aye, ye may be right. How was the vote?”

“Three against – Bedivere, Gawain and Percival.”

Merlin is not surprised, not even by Percival’s vote, not after his experience with Tristan, since when he has been less trusting, but the man is professional through and through and will support Galahad fully moving forwards. In fact, he’d probably be Merlin’s first pick for a partner for Eggsy if one were needed. He says as much and Harry nods.

“I agree. They work well together, and Percival doesn’t hold grudges.”

He sighs. Merlin knows how anxious Harry has been, how much he has missed Eggsy. He has had to be neutral and absolutely above reproach in any interactions and had to suspend any show of friendship during this period.

“Shall I send him in tae ye, Harry?”

Harry looks at him. “No. You go and tell him.”

Merlin is surprised “Harry?”

“Go to him Merlin, go tell him.” He suddenly smiles. “after all it’s not me that’s his best friend now is it?” He grows serious again. “Xander.” Merlin startles, Harry rarely uses his given name, only if he has a serious point to make (or is drunk.)

“Why not tell him everything?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Merlin’s heart stutters, but his voice is cold.

“Oh, for God’s sake. How long have I known you? Tell him you love him. It’s time don’t you think?”

“I think ye are overtired Arthur.” Merlin attempts to formalise things again, put them on a safer footing but Harry is having none of it.

“You’ve been at his side since the beginning. Through both of my... absences, you saved the world together and yet you still persist in the pretence that you are nothing but friends. Hell, you even deny that.”

“Harry…”

“You bring the boy food, you take him books, you play in the park with his family for God’s sake. Merlin you haven’t been home in the five months he’s been under house arrest – not for longer than a couple of hours and only then under duress. Good God man grow some balls and tell the boy. Put him out of his misery.”

“Harry, you don’t know what you’re talking about. He is a friend, of course he is, he’s a good man and he needs a friend, not…” Merlin suddenly gives in and slumps into his chair, wiping his hand across his face in despair.

“He’s everything Harry, ye know that. And what he needs is a friend, I’m 53 for fucks sake he doesn’t need another older man twisting what should be a clean relationship into something else. I’m 53 and I want him to trust me and not worry... it’s not as if.” He sighs heavily.

“It’s you he thinks is fit remember?” He stands. “I’ll tell him what he needs to know Harry. I’ll take him good news and nothing else.”

Harry gathers his papers and slaps them against his chest as he leaves.

“Coward.”

The word feels a lot less friendly this time.

“At least give the boy a hug. In fact, I command it. Put it in the fucking minutes. Arthur commands Merlin to deliver a hug to Galahad.” He glares at Merlin. “Fucking coward. And Eggsy’s been so damned brave.”

Merlin is left standing. If he’d imagined telling Harry of his love for Eggsy, he’d have imagined something warmer. Commiserations and consolation. More of a gentle understanding of the rigours of unrequited love, perhaps a (gentlemanly of course), appreciation of the lad’s charms before exhortations of stoic acceptance – and perhaps an invitation to drown his sorrows. He thinks back to their days as men about town, salacious reports from honeypot missions and shared nights on the pull – sorry Harry, gentleman ‘seek company.’ Merlin’s not sure when those conversations and activities stopped, exchanged for quieter nights spent together in conversation instead of hedonism. Age, he presumed and maturity.

Whatever, he’d expected sympathy, not anger and accusation. Certainly, hadn’t expected Harry to encourage his emotions, let alone be so furious about it.

Or so misguided.

That Eggsy was bisexual Merlin knew. That was a question in the paperwork in the first days of training and Eggsy had never been shy about it. Out with a brashness that Merlin had envied until he had realised it was a defence mechanism just as much as his own early closeted years had been.

That Eggsy was single and open of his appreciation of others is also no secret. Eggsy compliments anyone who deserves it. Not in an overtly sexual way, he could comment on a person’s fitness whilst somehow being respectful at the same time. Had never ogled Roxy (or the others) in the shower yet was never overly coy either. Merlin had heard the lad advising Roxy on the ‘best top for yer tits’ as matter of factly as he helped her pick the best colour for her complexion.

Eggsy was therefore, bisexual, respectful, open minded and in his own terminology, as fit as fuck. He could have anyone in the world he wanted. What would he see to attract him to Merlin? Aye, Merlin knows he is in good shape. He isn’t ugly and has a good face – what his gran had called a strong nose and a fine figure. He knows his strengths and he can’t be any kind of shrinking violet in this life. He passed all but one (that bloody dog test) of the trials and has effectively been running Kingsman in all but name and bloody protocol for the last 25 years. So, no false modesty, on the one hand he knows he could be considered a catch.

But for Eggsy? No, he had nothing to offer the lad and he wouldn’t put pressure on him for anything. Not with what he knows of the lad’s past. What Dean had blurted out when Merlin went to visit him shortly after V-Day, when Dean had thought telling the truth about his treatment of the boy would somehow reflect badly on Eggsy instead of exposing Dean’s abuse. It had sealed his fate for sure and although Eggsy allows himself to believe Dean had been moved on to the Liverpool area, that wasn’t strictly true. Merseyside wasn’t the ‘better place’ Merlin had sent Dean to. Yes, Merlin knows all about judgement without trial and is at peace with his actions. He has no qualms. Not even when laughing with a now fatherless Daisy. Especially not when laughing with a now fatherless, newly confident, Daisy.

So, he’d do what he could for Eggsy, including hiding his feelings. After all, love was putting the other person first. Although... Arthur had instructed he deliver a hug. He could allow himself that at least. After all he always followed orders…


	9. Chapter 9

Merlin has three agents live. Lancelot is currently enjoying a three-course luncheon with the Norwegian cultural ambassador, who is trying to persuade her to join his team of ‘researchers’ - “Just to gather a little information now and then my dear” – whilst she is actually getting enough evidence to prove his fraudulent activities. Not that Kingsman cares too much about financial misdeeds, normally a little below their paygrade as it were, but Stefan is seeking to spend his ill-gotten gains on a few experimental weapons of a nuclear nature and that can’t be permitted.

Merlin glances at her progress she sups her soup before flicking to another screen. Lancelot is fine.

Gawain is a picture of stealth as he creeps through empty corridors to the office of Jack Harbour of Harbour, Styles and Macadam’s law firm. He is to crack open the man’s safe and swap out the USB contained within for a Kingsman duplicate. One on which the calculations are a few decimal points out – just enough to prevent the deployment of the programme within, which is designed to give full access to MI5’s records. And subtle enough that it will just look like an error in calculations, thus foiling the plot, and discrediting the hackers who sold the code in the first place. Two outcomes with one mission; economy in action. Gawain needs no assistance, the building is empty, he is unobserved and is on track.

Merlin flicks screens once more. Eggsy. He sighs. Eggsy is running full pelt through the centre of Edinburgh, pursued by… Merlin makes out 3 men as Eggsy glances over his shoulder.

“Galahad how are things going?” he asks wryly.

Eggsy puffs out a laugh “What does it look like Guv?”

Merlin grins, pulls up CCTV and settles in to give directions. Not that Eggsy needs them, he’s been studying maps of the area for the past three days, scouting out the best routes to the run-down industrial unit near the station, where he is aiming to lure his targets.

Most agents would have conjured a different plot. Made contacts, arranged a business meeting to set up an ambush at the scheduled rendezvous. Eggsy is, Merlin grins, allowing them to chase him there.

“Do they look tired yet Guv? Eggsy asks as he bounces off a wall and skips over a railing. “Can I start taking a more direct route?”

“Aye, ye better Lad, the last one looks like he’s going to keel over any minute.”

These three men are renowned for their fighting ability. Proficient in a number of martial arts they have taken down both agents from MI6 and business rivals alike. Eggsy has skills in hand-to-hand combat, but it’s not a speciality. This way, chasing him through the streets until he is ‘cornered’ (aka exactly where he wants to be) they will arrive out of breath and less prepared for a challenge. Least of all one from the cheeky drug dealing scrote who has just tried to steal a holdall full of their best product. Eggsy has utilised his innate irritating little fucker personal to his advantage for the last few days undercover, and now these men just want to kick the shit out of him and are not expecting any sort of resistance.

Eggsy leaps over a final wall and acts dismayed as he ‘realises’ he has run himself into a dead end. He turns to face his pursuers. Two of whom are looking smug, whilst the third appears to be struggling to breathe.

  


“Ya wanna cut down on your beers mate,” gasps Eggsy as he leans over and rests his hands on his knees. “Look, no harm done eh? Here’s yer coke, just having a bit of a go, can’t blame a man for trying.” He opens the holdall and swirls his hand through it to show that all the packages are indeed still contained within and are undamaged.

He looks frightened as the men move in closer to him, and Merlin smiles at his agent’s role playing. Everything is on track. Eggsy takes a few steps back, bringing him closer to the building behind him, before tossing the bag towards the approaching men. As he does so, he jumps for the fire escape ladder above his head, out of reach for someone without Eggsy’s parkour skills and athletic ability. As he leaps, the bag slams onto the concrete, the jolt as it does so activating the chemical ‘bomb’ that Eggsy had primed when he was rummaging in the bag seconds before. He clambers up a few steps on the stairway and leans back, taking himself out of range out of range of the fumes, watching as all three men, still breathing heavily after their recent exertion inhale the gas and collapse, first to their knees, swearing before passing out completely.

Eggsy actually punches the air “Yes Guv! Merlin, targets’re down, extraction needed.” He needn’t have spoken. Merlin has already activated the extraction team who appear from the southern end of the yard, gas masks in place, and begin securing the fallen men. The interrogation teams will be busy tonight.

“Good job Galahad.” Merlin says formally. Eggsy does not return the favour.

“Merlin, that was aces. Fucking A! I told you it would work.” He is almost giddy.

Merlin smiles wryly, remembering his conversation with Harry the night before.

“Do you think he is ready Merlin? Maybe Morgana should handle Gawain and Lancelot tomorrow and free you up for Eggsy? He may need…”

Merlin had glared at the man, cross at him for voicing his own hidden concerns and had, of course, leaped to defend Eggsy whatever his own worries. When didn’t he?

“Are ye implying I cannae do my job Arthur? These are all three easy missions, all three trained agents. Do ye think me incapable of keeping my agents safe?”

“Heaven forfend Merlin.” says Harry with a small moue of apology that is absolutely undermined by the knowing look he is giving his oldest friend. “I would not dare.”

They’d shared a gaze and Merlin had almost whispered “He’ll be fine.”

He’d wanted to give the lad final encouragement this morning, when Eggsy had checked in at 6am, but Eggsy had interrupted sharply.

“Did Gawain like his pep talk Merlin? Roxy need telling which fork to use to eat her foie gras this afternoon? Yeah, thought not.” before ending the call abruptly. Only to tap his glasses not minutes later to mutter “Thanks Merlin. Now piss off and let me do my job.” and tapping out again.

Merlin smiles at the memory. He and Eggsy have been closer since the Kingsman vote. He’d taken the news of his reinstatement in to Eggsy who’d been pacing in an empty office down the hall.

“It’s over lad.” Yes, Merlin knows he is an idiot. He’d meant the vote and hadn’t thought until Eggsy had blanched in front of him and collapsed into a chair.

“Shit.” Eggsy huffed out a breath and looked at Merlin from beneath lowered lids “Shit?”

Thankfully, Merlin had realised his mistake and rushed to Eggsy’s side. “Jesus Lad, I’m an idiot. The meeting. The suspension is over, that’s all. You’re in. back. They voted for ye.”

“Fucking hell Merlin, you’re a knob.” Eggsy punches his shoulder, then grins up at him “Really”?

“Aye Lad…” he corrects himself “Yes Agent Galahad.” he smiles softly. “9 votes to 3. No. I’ll no give ye details,” he forestalls the enquiry. “Ye’ll be back on the roster as of next week.”

“It’s over.” This time it is Eggsy who breathes the words as he stands, forcing Merlin to take a step back. They are standing close now and Merlin thinks to Harry’s command, thinks how much he’d like to take Eggsy into his arms but knows he lacks the courage.

“Eggsy.” Merlin starts to speak, then closes his eyes as Eggsy huffs forward, throwing his arms around him in a tight hold. Thank God for Eggsy.

“Thank you, Merlin… Xander... Merlin.”

Merlin hugs back. As if he could not. They hold close, breathing each other in, longer than Merlin can bear, then Eggsy steps back eyes bright and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry Guv, I know you don’t do hugs.” He laughs as he offers a handshake. “I’ll be a gentleman from here on in,” he says with a wink. Then his smile fades as Merlin appears to refuse his hand.

Merlin pauses only a moment though, before he grasps Eggsy’s hand and, instead of shaking it, pulls Eggsy close again. “I’m proud of ye Lad.”

It had been a brief moment. They had been interrupted shortly after, with a schedule of official meetings, papers to be signed and a duty roster to be viewed and they had fallen easily back into their professional roles.

But since then, they had been freer. Merlin had realised that a touch wouldn’t break him, needn’t show his hand and Eggsy? Well, he accepted the change easily. Lost the air of reserve that he wore as Galahad and was Eggsy more and more.

Certainly, Arthur had been surprised when Galahad had greeted him with a hug when they had their first post vote meeting but had smiled broadly and gone along with it.

Merlin smiles again at the memory before turning back to his screens.

“Good job Galahad. Wheels up in 30. Debrief on your return. Now, Gawain, are ye done?”


	10. Chapter 10

Eggsy had missed Harry, of course, he had, but he understood that Kingsman ran on protocol, and Arthur, especially after what happened with the last person in that role, had to be squeaky clean. Harry had to be above reproach and perhaps especially so with regards Eggsy. Eggsy had heard the mutterings long before this happened. Grumblings about the estate boy allowed to be a candidate, the knight that failed the test but was still allowed to sit at table, the boy who had Arthur’s ear. Eggsy knew the suppositions, knew there were those who thought - something - was going on. He was used to it and paid it no mind. He had enough people; colleagues and friends who either knew the truth or didn’t care either way, those that trusted he was there on merit alone but when that merit came under wider question, he got why Arthur would keep his distance.

Truth told, he’d expected Merlin would be the same, as their trainer he had been scrupulously fair, a thing Eggsy sees even more in hindsight since Merlin has been able to talk freely about the assholes that were on his cohort and his disdain for them. (Charlie in particular, and the apple hadn’t fallen far from that tree had it? Eggsy took a deep satisfaction that he’d had a hand in taking down both uncle and nephew in that family tree of traitors.) But at the time Eggsy was training, Merlin had, well he hadn’t hidden his disdain particularly, but had applied his sarcasm equally and generously across all of the candidates and treated each according to the rules and expectations.

So Eggsy had expected his period of review at Kingsman to be long and somewhat lonely, but not only had Roxy remained as much of a friend to him as ever, spending free hours sharing popcorn, movies and gossip, Merlin had done much the same. Their football watching nights had just changed location, they had continued to argue and debate about, well just about everything they could find to disagree on, and Eggsy’s weekends with Daisy and Mum, always something he looked forward to anyway, had become the highlight of his week.

Walking across the city to Hyde Park was his favourite thing, he hated the rainy days when they took a cab, missing the easy way they walked together, Merlin switching his pace to match Eggsy’s shorter stride, the easy way they chatted. He loved the way Merlin would dress down – black jeans and a plain Henley, Chelsea boots and jacket. He should have looked like a thug, especially with his shaven head or black beanie when it was cold. Instead, though, the casual wear somehow softened his face, the trace of skin at his neck so different to his buttoned-up workplace shirt and tie. Enticing. And clearly Daisy had no fear, clambering up his legs to be held when they met, using Merlin as a climbing frame when they’d been sitting too long, or reaching up to him to be carried.

Conversely, Eggsy found himself dressing with more care, swapping his trackies and OTT trainers in exchange for what his mum would call date clothes. Indeed, Mum had smirked knowingly at him the first few times he and Merlin had turned up together, not seeming to care that Merlin was nearer her own age than Eggsy’s.

He hadn’t denied anything when Merlin was pushing Dais on the swings and his mum had nudged him for more info. He’d just acted coy – he could never hide his heart from her, and denials would be unconvincing, besides if she didn’t think they were together, what other reason could they give for Merlin spending every other Saturday afternoon with Eggsy, his mum and sister? They could hardly explain that Merlin was his minder could they.

And after the first couple of visits, when it became clear what Michelle thought, Merlin had loosened up and, not lied exactly, but allowed her belief to continue, speaking a little more softly to Eggsy and sharing his space a little more. They hadn’t actually done anything, fake, the stories and anecdotes they told of the week’s activities, of going to the gym together or watching the football had all taken place, no embellishment needed. And if Merlin had let Eggsy stand a little closer than they used to, been a little fonder. Well, Merlin was just continuing to help Eggsy out, like always.

So now it was all over with, Eggsy was feeling a little lost. He was pleased to see Harry informally again, of course he was, but he was realising that he hadn’t missed Harry half as much in 5 months as he was missing Merlin who he hadn’t seen off-duty since their debrief and hug the week after the vote.

It was ridiculous to miss someone with whom he’d had a two-hour meeting the day before, but Eggsy had been lost and disappointed when he’d sat alone in his suite last night, back at Kingsman, still buzzing from his mission in Edinburgh, from his first mission back on duty and no Merlin. He’d paced restlessly in the suite and waited. And dinner time had passed and kick off time had come and gone and with it, no Merlin at the door with beers. Eggsy might as well have gone back to his flat.

When Harry had arrived this morning with tea, wondering exactly that, asking why Eggsy hadn’t yet moved out of the Kingsman suite, he’d not really had an answer. He knew his flat was there and Harry had told him that Merlin had ordered a team from housekeeping out to prepare it for him, cleaning and restocking the fridge, almost immediately after the vote had been recorded. But Eggsy continued to return to his suite after each meeting, even as he sat there like Billy No Mates twiddling his thumbs.

“Is something wrong Eggsy?” Harry doesn’t miss a trick, despite the long gap in their contact, leaping straight back into his paternal mode. “Are you having doubts? Do you truly feel ready?”

“Leave it out, Harry.” Eggsy is happy to leap right back in to where they were too. “Miss me with that shite. I’ve passed all your bleeding tests and I’m ready for whatever you’ve got. I’d have thought yesterday proved that?” Eggsy softens his tone a little “Seriously Bruv, it’s alright. I know you haddta, I mean…” He mutters his final words about the training so they’re barely intelligible, but he knows Harry will hear certain words and get the gist. He raises his voice once more. “I’ll move back today. Just got used to my creature comforts ain’t I? Cooked breakfast and laundry service yeah?”

He won’t ask Harry where Merlin is, it may have been months since they’ve spent time together, but he knows Harry would hear his question and put two and two together and make – well, four actually, and he doesn’t need to make it easy for him. Besides he’s not sure what the rules on fraternisation are, and he doesn’t want to give Arthur another reason to ground him as soon as he has resumed taking on missions, plus it wouldn’t be fair on Merlin who is being a true friend that’s all, to give Harry the wrong idea. Merlin doesn’t need any more hassle courtesy of Eggsy.

After Harry has gone, Eggsy resigns himself to pack his belongings. There are more than he expected, but 5 months of stuff begins to build up although he’s surprised to find bits of Merlin in there too. There’s a sweater, a couple of books that he’d brought in - and Eggsy hadn’t thought at the time that it was perhaps odd that sometimes Merlin would come to his room and just read, no footie, no tv, just reading whilst Eggsy did research or study? There’s a mug he’d brought down one evening wired after overseeing a mission in crisis and there is even the toothbrush he’d used the morning after, when he’d ended up falling asleep on the couch instead of making it home or to his own suite of rooms.

Eggsy puts the bits to one side and wonders why it feels like a break up.

Today is second Saturday. Merlin and he meet his mum and Daisy at 1pm every second Saturday. When 11am comes and he hasn’t heard from Merlin, Eggsy finds himself on edge. It will take them half hour to get to the shop and another 20 minutes to walk from the Tailor’s to the park and as Eggsy never wants to be late, he and Merlin always leave early. At 11.30 he’s pacing and by 11.45 he realises Merlin isn’t coming and he’s devastated.

Was it only ever guard duty? He thinks of Merlin sharing an ice cream with Daisy and taking sticky fingers easily in his stride. Thinks of the meandering strolls the pair of them took at dusk, back to Kingsman after putting Michelle and Daisy in a taxi to their new flat. Remembers the calm after the chaos of Daisy and her games, both of them, or so he’d thought, enjoying the quiet wind down, as they matched pace and discussed the afternoon. Thinks about how they take turns to pop in for a takeout coffee or even sometimes, a packet of chips on the way home. Has all that been role playing? A front? He pictures Daisy’s face if he turns up without Uncle Merlin and is suddenly furious. Merlin has made that little girl fall in love him. How dare he walk away from that?

He’s marching to Merlin’s office before he knows it and is somewhat deflated when the large desk is empty. “Where is he?” he barks the question at Katyana, Merlin’s assistant and she looks at him surprised.

“It’s Saturday? He never works Saturdays unless there’s an emergency. Today is park day…” She tails off looking confused and Eggsy turns on his heel and leaves.

What the fuck? Eggsy is just lost. Everyone knows that he’s free now, so why would they think that Merlin would still… but then Eggsy did, so perhaps they… but then surely Merlin had been on duty when on guard duty? So why…

Eggsy is in a Kingsman cab and on his way to Merlin’s before he can think it through, so much so that when the cab arrives and the driver asks if he should wait, he doesn’t at first know what to say, before realising the time and that he’ll need a cab to get to the park no matter what.

“Yeah, just wait here. I won’t be long.” He pauses “How long to get to Hyde Park from here?”

“35 minutes, Galahad sir, at least.”

Shit, he has 10 minutes to sort this shit out. He hesitates, his wild rush of fury has faded a little in the journey to get here, although he’s still cross at the thought Daisy will be hurt, but perhaps he should deal with this another day?

“Eggsy? Is there a problem? Yer Mum, Daisy?”

Too late. Merlin has seen him turn up (of course he has, he’s Merlin, he probably has surveillance and a personalised alarm for each agent that gets within 30 feet of his home. Merlin is a private individual and has joked about setting mines around his home to keep Harry/unwanted visitors/Harry away.

Merlin is standing in his doorway. After seeing Merlin in work uniform of slacks and sweater, in his Kingsman suit and in his Saturday casual clothes, Eggsy should not be so thrown to see him in what is clearly sleepwear, old pyjama bottoms and a holey t shirt. Nor should the sight of Merlin’s unshaven face and head have quite such an impact on Eggsy’s pulse. Luckily, Eggsy has his anger to distract him.

“What the fuck Merlin? I get you might be done with guard duty, but ya couldn’t come once more to say goodbye to Daisy? You happy to just drop that little girl, just like that?”

“Eggsy? What? It’s Saturday why aren’t you… you’ll be late.”

They speak at the same time before both tailing off. Eggsy glares at Merlin and carries on.

“I know it’s Saturday, Wanker. Been sitting waiting for you for the last two hours, ain’t I? I didn’t think you’d just dump m...” he stops himself, “dump Daisy, just like that.”

“Ye don’t need me now, Lad. I thought you’d want to see them on your own without me getting in the way.”

They stare at each other. Eggsy is lost. How can Merlin think he’s not wanted?

They stare at each other a bit more, before the idling engine of the cab registers in Eggsy’s brain, and everything coalesces. “Shit! We’ll be late. Just go and get dressed you idiot. It’s twenty to one. Go on!”

Eggsy is gratified to see, for the first time ever and presumably also the last, Merlin leap into action at his command.

The Merlin that appears 7 minutes later is rather less groomed than Eggsy is used to seeing, his clothes have a thrown-on aspect and he is still unshaven. The deodorant he has clearly applied in lieu of a shower hangs in the air and for someone with no hair, he still manages to look dishevelled as he throws himself into the cab.

It’s adorable.

Michelle’s knowing smirk as they hop out of the cab at the other end, 6 minutes late, confirms his own thoughts as to how beddable Merlin looks and, thinking of his own fretting and worrying as he travelled to Merlin’s earlier, Eggsy imagines he has a similarly… ungentlemanly appearance.

She thinks they’ve… he stifles the wave of heat that the thought brings him. Knows that his blush at the idea will only serve to confirm his mum’s imaginings, but he refuses to let it worry him. There’s his Daisy, and the joy with which she greets her Uncle Merlin and all but ignores Eggsy fills his heart.

He nudges Merlin with his elbow, “See. Twat.” and decides to ignore how much it sounds like an endearment.


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin is an idiot. It’s not a name he usually calls himself, but today he can admit he’s an utter fool.

Taking Eggsy to the park to see his family had started innocently enough. Still shaken by the lad’s courage and the shock of his willingness to self-sacrifice, Merlin had found it near impossible to stay away, spending his spare time with Eggsy. His first offer to take a walk with the lad offsite had genuinely been prompted by nothing other than wanting to enable Eggsy to see his family, knowing Eggsy needed the comfort after the shock of the past few days and knowing he couldn’t do so without an escort.

He could still hear the crack in Eggsy’s voice as he had verbally signed over everything to his sister, so Merlin couldn’t think of making the lad wait, possibly for months, to see her. He knew Eggsy had no real understanding of how long this process could take. Eggsy had only ever seen the incisive swift action side of Kingsman, never the behemoth of bureaucracy and processes that trundle along in the background. So, although Eggsy said he could wait and would just call his mum at the weekend instead, Merlin had insisted they meet up. He’d planned to busy himself on the fringes of their meeting and be close enough to meet the Supervision criteria of Eggsy’s suspension. It’s not as if a lad who was prepared to lay down his life three days ago was likely to abscond anyway.

Merlin should have known better. After embracing both his girls in a prolonged hug that left Daisy squirming and Michelle looking confused, Eggsy had refused to let Merlin stay on the outskirts of their gathering and Merlin was soon embroiled in a game of pretend with a brightly shining 4-year-old girl, the rules of said game which he never understood (although he suspects they basically boil down to doing whatever and whenever Daisy wants) whilst Eggsy watched grinning (and Merlin suspects, sneaking photos) before joining the game himself.

And after that. Merlin told himself that it was only decent to make a fortnightly event of it. Especially as Eggsy’s training stepped up and became more distressing, more draining. Without the regular boost from his family Eggsy would have been left with only Merlin’s sorry self for company.

So, they journeyed out on a regular basis and it was only on their third outing when Merlin caught Michelle giving him sneaky glances, looking between he and Eggsy that he even realised that she’d wonder why Merlin was there on a family day out. And somehow, although they didn’t discuss it, he and Eggsy had allowed her to think…

Merlin is stupid because he has attempted to fool himself that he’d just been doing Eggsy a favour, that he was just helping him out and keeping his agent motivated, keeping his friend cheered. He has somehow failed to acknowledge how much he valued these Saturdays himself, how much he looked forward to the trips. Even if he’d admitted to himself a long time ago that he is head over heels for the boy, he has somehow missed how much he was enjoying being part of a family. Having fun with Eggsy, making chit chat with Michelle and playing silly games with Daisy. Even managing her temper tantrums hasn’t been a chore (he thinks that it’s not that much different to managing Harry to be fair.)

Merlin is foolish because he refused to let himself see how much it would hurt when it was done.

Harry was right of course (not that he’d ever admit such a thing) but Merlin had barely been home whilst Eggsy was sequestered to the estate. He hadn’t expected or planned it, but the thought of going to his own home when Eggsy was stuck in the impersonal suite of rooms on the 3rd floor had seemed wrong somehow and if Merlin was only going home to putter about with electronics or to read, well, he could do that in Eggsy’s quarters just as well.

So, if he had downtime, Merlin had found himself spending it with Eggsy as often as not, and he was honest enough with himself to enjoy it and to know he was enjoying Eggsy’s company.

He didn’t lie to himself or pretend his breath wasn’t regularly taken away by Eggsy’s physical self. How could he deny the impact of a worn out Eggsy walking back from a workout, hair dampened with sweat, or ignore the rush of heat that hit him when Eggsy would stretch tall, tee rising to expose a flash of abs, soft downy hair against pale skin? Or hell, refute his growing obsession with that one mole that adorned Eggsy’s neck just asking to be licked…

But despite all of this, Merlin had moved far beyond the physical. It was Eggsy that he had fallen for, not the body that carried him (not *just* that), but the ridiculous perfection of everything else. The enchanting mix of influences, Eggsy’s determination, his sense of humour, his ludicrous refusal to support Arsenal, his biting wit, his ability to find joy in the dourest of situations and his bravery. Merlin could muse for hours on the lad.

So, he allowed himself this window. At work he was Merlin, (Merlin lite in the evenings alone with Eggsy) but Saturdays. On Saturday’s Xander allowed himself to imagine. Not a relationship, he never cheated himself or pretended he and Eggsy were more than they were, but on Saturdays he was real. He belonged. He didn’t question his place. The pair of them played with Daisy, chatted nonsense with Michelle and just were. And for this reason alone, Eggsy’s period of suspension was something of an idyllic dream for Merlin.

And he’d allowed himself to forget it would all come to an end.

So, he’s an idiot.

And even more so this morning because he is wallowing. Without Eggsy to trash talk throughout the game, he hadn’t lasted through more than 30 minutes watching the match last night before turning off the tv and sitting in silence and self-pity. And now he’s schlepping around a home that feels alien after so long absent, mooching between his bedroom and his sofa in tired worn-out sleepwear. Watching the hands on the clock tick ‘round. Past the time he’d need to start getting ready, past the time he would stroll to the door of Eggsy’s suite to pick him up, past the time they’d drop in at the coffee shop to get their takeout cups.

Merlin has free time again. A weekend to do, well, there’s bound to be something needing fixing. He should start work in the garden although he doesn’t want to sit in the sunshine, doesn’t want the breeze and the fresh air or anything that reminds him of the park. He wonders if Daisy will ask where he is. The little girl has taken a liking to him, in the way children do. Indeed, there had been a couple of weeks when she’d allow no-one but Uncle Xander to push her on the swings, hand her a drink; tighten her scarf, anyone else being met with shrieks and tears. He imagines Eggsy will be glad to have his mum and sister back to himself.

He’s an idiot.

Merlin chucks his undrunk coffee down the sink. It seems that his state-of-the-art coffee machine can’t compete with the appeal of stale Starbucks with Eggsy at his side. Jesus he’d be tempted to go into work to avoid this aimless pining if he didn’t know that his staff would look at him with pity. After all, he’d made such a thing of keeping every other Saturday free.

He pulls a hand over his face and is tempted to leave it there. He’s pining like some helpless maid. He can’t go to Harry who would have no patience with the suffering of his friend, not when he sees it as self-inflicted. Besides, he can’t face the hope that Harry tries to instil in him, without realising the hurt it causes.

He’ll be fine. He glances at the clock. They’d almost be at the park now. Eggsy always insisting on being there early (always an hour, which they kill strolling round the edges of the park, chatting) saying he can’t risk being late for Daisy.

The beeping of his home security alerts Merlin to the fact a car has pulled up outside his home. He hears the slam of a car door and the familiar sound of a Kingsman cab idling outside. Shit, he has left his glasses in the bedroom and wonders if he has missed an alert even though he is off duty? He havers briefly with the thought of going to get them but decides that it’s just as efficient to open the door in front of him and find out who’s there the old-fashioned way.

So, he is startled when he opens the door to see Eggsy dithering beside the cab. An Eggsy whose hair is sticking up at slightly odd angles and who looks… furious.

“Eggsy? Is there a problem? Your mother? Daisy?”

Eggsy should be at the park by now waiting for his family. Merlin catches his breath and is thinking of solutions to a multitude of possible problems when Eggsy marches up to him and launches into a tirade.

They are speaking at cross purposes briefly, until Merlin, confused that there appears to be no emergency, points out that it’s Saturday and the boy should be elsewhere.

“I know it’s Saturday, you wanker.”

Merlin is confused. Had Eggsy expected him?

“Ye don’t need me now, Lad.” The words leave Merlin’s lips saying more than he ever intended and he freezes and stares at the man before him.

Eggsy looks furious, incredulous and a little afraid all at once. Which is no mean feat and shouldn’t look so appealing. Merlin gazes at Eggsy, who just stares back at him. Merlin’s heart hasn’t beaten this fast since he can’t remember when and he thinks he might just stay here forever with the sense of something just over the horizon.

Then the cab engine gives a particularly loud rumble and Eggsy startles back into action. He commands Merlin to go right now and dress and Merlin just … does. He flies into his home and grabs the nearest Saturday clothes he can find. No time to shower he douses himself liberally with deodorant and after the most cursory of tooth brushings, he is back outside in a matter of minutes.

He and Eggsy throw themselves into the back of the cab which pulls away the moment they’re settled and if Merlin allows himself to briefly slide closer to Eggsy as the cab turns, well, it’s only for a moment before he straightens himself up.

He sees the look Michelle gives them as they tumble out of the car, late for the first time ever, sees Eggsy’s blush and realises what it must look like, and he’s ready to stammer out some words to explain…something when Daisy runs up to him and throws herself into his arms. The joy he feels at her guileless greeting is enough to distract him, without Eggsy’s none too gentle elbow in the ribs.

“See. Twat.”

He laughs out loud, a raucous bark of a laugh. He’s an idiot.


	12. Chapter 12

Eggsy slouches further in his seat and plays with his nearly empty cup. He’s been sitting in the Costa on Slough High Street for the last two hours, and he is buzzing on far too much caffeine, flushed into his system via burnt and yet somehow empty tasting, coffee. He’s eaten a soggy bacon roll and has the debris from an overly sweet blueberry muffin crumbled on the tray in front of him.

His mark, James Patterson, is a nondescript looking, slightly plump man in a tracksuit – and Eggsy had not appreciated Merlin’s snort as he’d recognised it as one Eggsy had in his own wardrobe and would now never wear again thank you very much. Eggsy had tailed the chap from the Job Centre earlier and had been peeved to see him settle into the faux leather sofa in the far corner of Costa, setting up his laptop beside the extra-large whatever the fuck it was he’d bought.

It was a wonder the store stayed open, not only was the coffee shit and overpriced, half the shop had been occupied by the same sad group of people all afternoon, eking out their drinks and dry cakes while they took advantage of the warmth and free Wi-Fi. Free Wi-Fi that meant Eggsy didn’t even need to try and gather info, as it allowed Merlin to piggy-back on to Patterson’s screens with a few simple key presses.

So far, Merlin has informed him, Patterson has read a few celebrity gossip sites, trolled a few twitter feeds and then spent 90 minutes harvesting crops on some settlement game.

Eggsy is bored, and he picks up his cup and lets Merlin know, muttering into the cup, “Merlin, I’m bored. Help a guy out?”

There is no response and Eggsy shouldn’t expect anything else. His first more in depth mission since returning to active duty and he’d been buzzing after so long inactive. He’d read the file fully, knows that Patterson is suspected of being a go between for more involved parties, a sort of lowly invisible delivery boy and Kingsman are watching him to try and identify links between bigger players, seeing who is communicating with whom. Eggsy had suggested a more in depth, undercover approach, thought he should go in and befriend the guy, but Patterson wasn’t active often enough to make this worth such a time investment (and seeing how boring he was, Eggsy was glad this had been vetoed). So, right now, Eggsy is just on tailing/observation duties, with a standing order to intervene if appropriate.

And he is bored. He’d wondered if he was still on some sort of probationary period, even after the success of his first mission last week, but Merlin had made it clear that each mission was matched to an agent’s strengths and availability, no more no less. Mind you, Eggsy thought it was a shame that he was sitting in a shitty Costa in Slough whilst Percival had jetted off to Oslo that morning. It would have been good to see Tilde who was attending the same international conference Percival was penetrating. Percival was off in full Kingsman threads and Eggsy was in Slough in an old pair of jeans and a Superdry hoodie.

He sighs then startles slightly as his phone rings from a withheld number. He answers, a little tentatively but sounding loud and confident and in character.

“Bored?” Merlin’s wry voice greets him over the call and Eggsy slumps happily back against the plastic chair.

“Alright mate?” He greets his handler, knowing Merlin hates the term.

“Really lad? When I’m taking pity on ye and letting ye speak?”

Eggsy laughs and relaxes his body more, being sure to keep his mark in sight despite his seemingly casual posture. His conversation will clearly be heard in the confined space, so they can’t talk freely, can’t discuss the mission, or colleagues or… for a moment he is lost for words.

Merlin reads his pause, as always, and steps up, as always.

“I hear ye had a date last night?”

Eggsy is lost for a second, are they just making up stuff? But then he remembers his conversation with Lancelot as they headed for the train the night before. He’d been telling her of his plans for dinner and she had asked him “hot date?” And Eggsy had laughed in the affirmative just as they passed Merlin’s workstation. He hadn’t realised that Merlin had been listening, let alone caught enough of the chat to recall the joke this afternoon. Still, it gives them something they can talk about feasibly on the phone without drawing undue attention.

“My date?” he laughs. “Yeah, it got well messy. It was mad. Just the two of us, you, know, empty house so like, no Mum interfering!” He laughs again remembering. “We didn’t even get through dinner – had her stripped off halfway through the pasta – still took an age to get her to bed though. You know what it’s like.”

Merlin is speechless and as the mark has picked up his typing speed Eggsy assumes Merlin has been distracted by watching his screens. So, he continues, even as he changes his posture, ready to move if Merlin picks up on something he needs to act on.

“Yeah, so obviously I’m knackered this morning – cos she kept me up half the night and of course the little minx wakes me at 5.30 this morning. It’s a good job I’m here at Costa with all the caffeine.”

He pauses, smiling into the phone, watching his mark and waiting for any kind of response from Merlin.

When it comes Merlin sounds odd. “Thanks for sharing Lad…” perhaps he’s cross with Eggsy for bringing real life into the mission? Eggsy had thought it was harmless enough, but perhaps he shouldn’t have? He shifts in his seat, feeling uncomfortable, trying to ignore the twinges of doubt that still hover in the back of his mind after his time on suspension.

He clears his throat, to speak again.

“…Anyway…”

Just then though the peace is disturbed as a group of teens bundle into the store, loud and rowdy they are all talking at once, yelling across to each other as some find seats, others join the queue to order and the three girls of the group are reaching into their bags, phones at the ready, lip gloss in hand as they split off announcing their intention to use the loos, and putting in their orders with their mates in the queue as they pass.

They walk to the loos, the doors of which are directly opposite Eggsy, and beside the seating area taken up by the mark. The girls huddle in the space, waiting for the cubicles to become vacant, ignoring Patterson completely, although Eggsy feels their eyes giving him the once over and checks them out in return. Phone to his ear he gives a half acknowledgement - as a young lad alone at Costa he’d stick out more if he didn’t at least look, even though the girls are all clearly of school age. Heavy shoulder bags giving that away, even if their noise, chatter and hubbub did not.

Patterson is also checking them out, his attentions much less welcome that Eggsy’s if the “Euw from one of the girls is anything to go by.

Eggsy has kept up the chatter on his phone, speaking just for cover rather than speaking to Merlin purposely but he now ends the call.

“Yeah, I’ve got a shift at 6, couldn’t be arsed to go home after I signed on.” He mutters, watching the girls do a dance between them as the loos become vacant – two cubicles but three girls.

“You go, I can wait.” One of them volunteers, slouching into a lean against the wall as her friends take her up on the offer. She fidgets there for a bit then slumps down on to the tattered sofa opposite the chap she insulted a few moments ago. She completely ignores him in order to play on her phone, scrolling aimlessly with one thumb as she twiddles her hair with the other hand, letting out a heavy sigh as she waits.

She’s good, Eggsy’ll give her that. She’s nonchalant and cocky at the same time. Yelling across the shop at one point to advise her friends that yes, she does want cream on her hot chocolate, before slumping back down into her seat. She’s relaxed, confident and it’s only because he’s looking that Eggsy sees her nudge her bag gently towards the mark, sees it fall off the sofa and to the floor. Eggsy watches Patterson retrieve it and return it to her like a gentleman doing a favour, sees him slip a USB stick inside the pocket before handing the bag back with a smile.

“You dropped this.”

“Yeah, alright.” The girl snatches it back and looks at him with scorn before getting up and going into the cubicle as her friend exits.

Eggsy has a choice. The guy is now packing up, his handover done pretty smoothly for a man whom Eggsy hasn’t seen talk to anybody the whole day long, and who looks as if this is a normal level of interaction for him.

Eggsy’s brief is to follow Patterson through the day and note the contacts he makes. He could continue this task. He could pick up his stuff and follow Patterson out, it being close enough to 6pm to match his story about heading for work. But Eggsy trusts his instinct and he knows, from the flicker of interest she’d shown him when she first arrived, from the way she smiles at him as she comes out of the loo, lipstick refreshed, top straightened with a few more buttons undone, that he could make a move and easily gather info on the new player.

He can hear Merlin’s keyboard in his earpiece, knows that he has activated facial recognition software, trying to identify the girl - without success if Merlin’s mutterings are anything to go by, and he knows what he has to do.

He makes himself give the girl a much less subtle look, blatantly checking her out as she walks towards him, heading back towards her mates.

“Alright?” He smiles and starts to chat her up; a bit of a flirtation, eyes where they shouldn’t be on a clearly under 16-year-old. Hands very much to himself, except for a gentle touch to her shoulder, anchoring her in his attention. Eggsy woos.

And hates every damn minute of it, hates the lascivious looks he must give, the way he lets his eyes hold hers knowingly as he stretches to show his stomach. He makes flirtatious comments about her drink choices, lets his eyes settle on her lips before licking his own. He’s full on, he knows this stops here, there’s no way he’s going to cross a line with this girl and the only thing that makes it bearable is Merlin in his ear suggesting info for him to gather.

“Try and get her name… find out what school she goes to…”

He resists rolling his eyes and appears to ignore the suggestions altogether until the teen mentions a teacher.

“No way you’re in school!” He plays up his incredulity, refusing to accept her assurances that she really is. She is smitten and Eggsy is playing to all her weaknesses. He’s picked her to flirt with, over her two (she thinks, prettier) friends, he tells her she must be too old to be at school, no way someone as … mature (he allows his eyes to run over her figure, catching on her hips, her breasts, and knows she feels the looks as real as a touch, by her blushes) is still at school, nope he doesn’t believe it – prove it…

And as he is giving her his number; a set of Kingsman digits that will go to a set of prepared voicemails, her hands typing in his contact details, he snatches her bag, laughing freely, rowdy, no subtlety.

“I bet there aren’t any schoolbooks in here.” He pulls them out and mimes astonishment, grabs her English book, starts to read a composition aloud, sighs over it, laughs and grins. Flirts as she tries to snatch the books back, blushing. He is loud and flirty and wafts her books in front of her, holding them just out of reach before ‘giving in’ and piling them back into her bag for her. He quietens his behaviour just a little, after all, he has lifted the USB now, bold bright distraction having served its purpose. He wants to let her down gently, with an explained “You’re too young.” But he needs her to stay distracted a bit longer, until he’s gone and out of range, so he winks and tells her he will call her “Later, yeah? When you’ve done your homework.” And he winks and presses a gentle kiss to her cheek, before leaving the café with a bounce in his step. Turning round to give her one final look, she’s buzzing and he…

He wants a shower.

“Fuck me Merlin”. He’s making is way back to Kingsman, frustrated by the need for caution, the fact he can’t just go by the most direct route. He feels shaken.

“There’s a cab on its way lad, it will meet you at Ealing station, you can come in directly from there.”

It feels like an extraction and in a way it is. For a straightforward low risk mission, he’d normally be expected to weave his way back to the estate though mundane means, but it is Merlin in his ears after all, and he always has Eggsy’s back.

“Ye did well lad. We got her name from the school… from her books. Melissa Routledge. She’ll be picked up before she gets home. Her parents check out but there’s a stepbrother in the mix, suspected of heavy involvement in County Lines. The USB will be a real help to the task squad and she’ll be fine, there’s a whole programme of protection and support for those pulled into County Lines. Something they actually do well.” He snorts before continuing, knowing somehow, that Eggsy doesn’t want to speak. “Patterson – he’s definitely just a go between, he was picked up 20 minutes ago, he’s weeping at the hands of Gavin as we speak. He seems very mundane, low grade. Ye did good work Lad.”

Eggsy is quiet. It doesn’t feel like good work. He feels sleazy.

“Cab’s here” is all he says, “I’ll see you in a bit yeah?” and he tumbles into the backseat and closes his eyes.

Katyana is waiting for him as he exits the train and signs in his kit, all bar the USB stick which he will take directly to Merlin in person, he hands over the non-personalised tech, the things he might have needed, but didn’t and plods over to Merlin’s office for debrief. He wants this over with.

He wants this over with and his heart sinks a little when he sees Harry is in the room with Merlin. He hasn’t knocked. He never does, Merlin knows he is coming and would have instructed him to wait if he didn’t want him in. He slumps into the seat in front of Merlin’s desk and waits for Harry to make a pointed comment, he loves the man, of course he does, but sometimes he isn’t in the mood and right now he just wants the quiet comfort of Merlin, not Harry’s more elaborate self.

“Galahad! Well done.” Arthur is present too, Eggsy forgot that for a moment and wilts a little.

“Arthur.” He responds formally and girds himself for the debrief and dissection of his actions on the mission. Instead, though, Harry looks at Merlin and gives a quiet nod whilst laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Well done my boy, you went with your instincts and cut the mission right through. You did well Eggsy, I’m proud of you. Merlin.” Harry nods and makes for the door before pausing and grinning at Eggsy. “Oh, and congratulations on your new relationship!”

Eggsy blinks and is on his feet in seconds. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” He is furious. “Do you think that’s funny? Is that a joke or…” his anger raises even more if that’s possible “…are you fucking serious?” He’s in Harry’s face before he realises it.

The whole situation has escalated from nothing to nuclear fallout in a second. Harry is ready to defend himself, as always, but has a look on his face that Eggsy can’t quite make out.

“All this shit about trust and that’s what you say to me? What you think of me?”

Eggsy is shaking and doesn’t know whether to punch Harry or cry. Both seem equally likely in the moment.

“Eggsy? What on earth?” Harry stares at him

“You saw what they made me watch, is that what you think of me?” Eggsy can barely get the words out “You… Dean… you know…”

He loses his anger in his devastation that this is what they, what Harry, thinks him capable of. He sags and would collapse if Merlin weren’t suddenly there, his arms, firm and warm around his waist as he surrounds Eggsy from behind. He can barely catch his breath.

Merlin is speaking to him “Not the mission lad, not Melissa, Jeese lad. Of course, not that.”

Harry’s slack jaw as he realises what Merlin means would be funny if Eggsy’s eyes weren’t filling with tears and if he wasn’t finding it so hard to catch some air, if he wasn’t gasping, too quickly, too heavy, too hard.

Merlin’s arms tighten around him. A solid weight at his back. His head close to Eggsy’s, his voice a quiet whisper in his ear.

“Gently Lad, take your time. Breath with me.” Merlin breathes steadily behind him and Eggsy can’t help but match him, his chest rising and sinking in time with Merlin pressed into his back. He feels safe.

Merlin behind him and Harry; mortified, eyes soft, is standing close in front of him, his own breath merging with Eggsy’s. They are a closed bubble, slowly inhaling and exhaling together. Harry looking him straight in the eyes, refusing to look away, holding Eggsy’s gaze while Merlin holds him, heat soaking through his back and filling him. Merlin’s comforting musky, woodsy scent filling the space and his quiet exhalations brushing across his ear.

It grounds him and he calms down, not just from his sudden, frightening rage and the panic attack that had ensued, but he loses the itchy, dirty feeling he has had since the café. His limbs stop twitching and suddenly feel too heavy and Merlin senses this and brings him back to sit on the couch in the corner, sitting close beside him, thighs touching and one arm resting along the back of the sofa, a hand, resting gently at the nape of his neck. And Harry follows them, bringing a chair to sit close in front of him, well within personal space, closer than is normal, yet it feels natural, feels safe.

Eggsy looks up at Harry. “Sorry Guv.”

Harry frowns at him, “Not at all. It was I who…I didn’t believe for a minute that you would think I meant...”

Merlin speaks at the same time “Nay, it’s my fault lad, I betrayed your confidence I didn’t… I shouldn’t have told Harry in the first place.”

Eggsy is confused.

“Told Harry what? It was a mission, I ‘spect he watched being it was one of my first…” he glances at Harry who briefly looks away before snapping his gaze back, confused.

“Eggsy?”

“I just overreacted, yeah? Jeese.” he wipes his face with his hands, “All that bloody footage, I knew I was being trained to maybe have to kill a… y’know… abuser.” Eggsy wants to cry again. “I just never thought I’d have to be one.” he laughs bitterly.

Merlin squeezes his neck once, releases it, but then leaves his hand resting there, fingers gently rubbing his hairline.

“Oh Lad – ye didn’t... ye weren’t…” Merlin looks at Harry helplessly.

“Eggsy.” Harry reaches forward and places a finger under Eggsy’s chin, raising his face. “You flirted, cleanly, safely and innocently.” He emphasises the latter word, “with a young girl. But you did so to save her. Those 15 minutes may have felt uncomfortable, but they saved her from a potential lifetime of oppression, of pressure and being controlled by the wrong people. Those 15 minutes, 15 minutes of *talking*” again he stresses the last word. “They got you her name and got her a ticket to safety. Be proud of that my boy, be thankful. And as for the kiss.” Harry bends down and pecks Eggsy on the forehead. “That’s all you did. That’s it.”

Merlin is still gently stroking his fingers against the nape of Eggsy’s neck and it gives him the courage to speak.

“You know what I done, what Dean…” the hand at his neck tightens briefly and he surprises himself by reaching a hand to Merlin’s knee to offer the man comfort. “It started…” he takes a deep breath. “It started… nice. It’s not like he pinned me down or nuffin’.” He lowers his eyes. No matter what Dr Madden has told him, has helped him to realise, he still feels guilty that the first kiss, the first time hadn’t been completely forced. He spits out the words “I didn’t say no - not the first time…” Merlin is still at his side, hand warm on his neck, the other has moved to rest on top of his own on their touching legs, he hasn’t moved away. Harry is still seated in front of him, looking at him intently and gently.

They haven’t gone. Haven’t walked away from him.

“I didn’t want to be that… what ... how could I flirt so easily with her? She had her schoolbooks with her. I looked at her…”

Merlin interrupts him “And during your training you looked at and flirted with Bedivere Lad, and Martha in the canteen who’s 63 and Lewis from the kennels who doesn’t wash enough. Ye could do it with Harry or … or me or even Chester King. You’re trained, you’re a Kingsman and ye took your skills and ye did what was needed. And ye’d no more intention of going further than ye did when ye had to kiss Digby in the classroom.” He pauses. “Unless there was more to that relationship than you’re telling us…”

Eggsy knows Merlin says this deliberately, knowing how much Eggsy hated that knob and it does the trick, wrenching a smile from him. He leans back against Merlin, feeling safer than he has in a long time. When a thought occurs to him.

“Hang about.” He looks at Harry. “Then, why did you say what you did about a date?”

“Dear boy, I was talking about your rendezvous last night, trying to lighten the mood, I didn’t connect a thought with Melissa.”

Merlin looks uncomfortable “as I said, I apologise lad. We were chatting and it was between us, but it was in mission, so I assumed ye were happy to talk about it, as you knew it was being recorded, but there was no need for me to talk to Harry about it.”

“What rendezvous? Are you two - did you hit yer head? I dunno what you’re talking about?”

“Your date Lad, ye were telling Lancelot about it as you left last night, then ye told me about it today. In great detail I might add…”

Eggsy gapes at Merlin for a second before he starts laughing and once started, he can’t stop. His emotions, so close to the surface grasp the opportunity for release and he is soon laughing so hard he can’t catch his breath and the looks of confusion he sees on Merlin and Harry’s faces make it worse and are enough to set him off anew. It’s only when their expressions switch to genuine concern that he gets it together enough to calm himself, and honestly, he feels like he has run a fucking marathon rather than spend a few hours drinking coffee and a quarter of an hour flirting with a girl. He shudders, then looks at Merlin, who is still sitting incredibly close to him.

“Daisy. I had Daisy last night. Mum was out. Daisy put bolognaise everywhere and had to be sponged off at the kitchen table. She was a devil and she put on her parts all night.” He thinks back to the account he gave Merlin and can, at a push, see how it was misinterpreted, can understand the confusion. He looks at Harry and is tempted to laugh once more but is then distracted by Merlin’s expression. Whereas Harry is chuckling himself now, a mixture between being glad Eggsy is okay and seeing the humour in the situation, Merlin – Merlin looks kind of relieved and somehow lost.

Eggsy speaks again “Ain’t no dates in my life gents.” He nudges Merlin, feeling reckless after the day he’s had, safe after the comfort he’s been given. “This is the most intimate I’ve been in months – a kiss from Harry...” He grins and takes his life in his hands and pushes a peck to Merlin’s cheek “… and now one for you. A kiss and a cuddle. We’re practically going steady.”

Merlin blinks at him, and Harry sighs and rises from his chair, laying his hand momentarily on Eggsy’s head, and then Merlin’s. “You could do worse my boy.” He walks to the door. “Leave the debrief ‘till tomorrow. Go home.” He pauses. “Both of you.”


	13. Chapter 13

Harry walks out of Merlin’s office and leaves the pair of them sitting there frozen. Merlin can feel Eggsy trembling and knows he should do something, say something, but he doesn’t want to move. Doesn’t want to move his hand, his fingers which are still pressed against Eggsy’s neck, fingers that are just catching on Eggsy’s hairline. Wants to maintain this contact. No, it’s more than that, it’s not just want, it’s need.

He risks a glance at Eggsy’s face. Instead of a fleeting glimpse though, his eyes are snagged, caught in the warm depth of Eggsy’s eyes and he wants to never look away. Wishes he could hold the gaze forever.

He inhales a shuddering breath and shifts so his forehead is touching Eggsy’s and rests there. No words, just closeness and peace.

He wishes he could dare to move closer, could edge closer, moving slowly enough that Eggsy could avoid his advance if he wants, could take a chance, could...

For a moment there is a heavy silence between them, before Eggsy, brave, courageous Eggsy, leans back a fraction, but then reaches out and takes Merlin’s hand, curling his fingers comfortably around Merlin’s and breaks into a grin.

“You really thought I was talking about a date? With someone else?” He raises his eyebrows at Merlin. “Twat.”

Merlin feels his own face break into a smile, and he squeezes the hand holding his own.

It’s ridiculous. Eggsy scoots over until he’s able to slouch down and rest against Merlin, almost nestling into his side. He rests his head against Merlin’s shoulder, his hair brushing against Merlin’s stubbled cheek and jaw and then settles there. The occasional squeeze of his hand the only communication between them.

When Merlin has allowed himself to imagine such a moment, the shift from one thing to another, he would have envisaged words. Deeply uncomfortable declarations – Harry Hart style romantic outpourings and confessions. Himself trying to stumble through his feelings followed by embarrassed excuses and kind rejection from the lad. Awkward, painful and enough of a deterrent to keep Merlin in frozen want forever.

He’d never pictured this wordless slide. The searing sweep of his heart as everything and nothing changes in a second. Hadn’t expected the sheer sense of certainty and confidence in a hand squeeze and silence.

He huffs out a breath and it pulls Eggsy’s attention and he smiles up at Merlin and lifting his head, presses the gentlest of kisses to the corner of Merlin’s mouth before sinking down to rest on his shoulder once more, with another softly muttered “Twat.”

And this time Merlin does dare. He turns and presses his own kiss. It’s gentle too, to start. He intends it to be an echo of Eggsy’s quiet courageousness but when he feels the soft give of his lad’s lips his heart swells and the kiss grows with it. It’s a promise. The soft caress of tongue against lip, a gift. They share air and with it, all the words they haven’t said. It’s warmth and comfort and, not heat, not yet. That’s promised too though. That will come, and with it their forever. As much as they can ask for anyway. But for now, it’s a quiet, soft, heartbeat. A promise.

Merlin smiles into the kiss and it’s perfect.


End file.
